


Family Matters

by Chemical_Defect, Fandoms_Unite



Series: The Gambit [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Anal Sex, Because come on it's Sherlock, Drama, Fluff, Gay, Humour, Idiots in Love, Johnlock Roulette, Kilts, Kissing, Love, M/M, Men going at it, More Fluff, Oral Sex, Parentlock, Scotland, Sex, Sherlock is still insatiable, Slice of Life, bit of angst, family love, ptsd episode, references to other fandoms - Freeform, violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 176,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical_Defect/pseuds/Chemical_Defect, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Unite/pseuds/Fandoms_Unite
Summary: As they have returned home to Baker Street after having spent Christmas at the Holmes', Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and their daughter meet with Harry Watson and her fiancée Clara who are in need of some help.
Relationships: Clara/Harry Watson, Clara/Harry Watson & Rosie Watson, Greg Lestrade & John Watson, Greg Lestrade & John Watson's Family, Irene Adler/Kate & John Watson's Family, Irene Adler/Kate & Rosie Watson, Irene Adler/Kate (Sherlock), John Watson & John Watson's Family, Mycroft Holmes & John Watson, Mycroft Holmes & John Watson's Family, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade & Rosie Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson's Family, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson & Irene Adler/Kate, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson & Rosie Watson & Mrs Hudson
Series: The Gambit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209177
Comments: 32
Kudos: 18





	1. Complete

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you enjoy this story!  
This work is the second instalment of the series The Gambit, part one being A White Christmas.  
As said in the description of the series there will be three parts, but parts one and two (complete) are self-sufficient.  
I'm terribly sorry for readers of part I, we were so certain to post it in early 2019: after having 8 chapters complete, real life got in the way...  
Both of us really apologise, and dearly hope that this second part will make up for lost time...!  
We'll post according to a regular schedule - a chapter per week.  
Please let us know of anything that doesn't add up.  
The work in unbeta-ed and un-Britpicked although we've done our best, all errors are our own.  
We thrive on kudos and comments, please give us some?

The journey home had indeed passed quickly as a large part of it had all four of them sleeping. Despite this they were all still tired – Rosie being positively exhausted but fighting it. She remembered seeing Sherlock being extremely tired as if he had not slept for several days before John decided to ask to come back to live with him.

‘It feels good to be home,’ Sherlock said, carrying their bags while Rosie was in John’s arms and Sultan at his feet. ‘I’ll go unpack, why don’t you settle Sultan and miss Sleepyhead here?’ he kissed John’s cheek before walking towards their room. ‘Do you want me to run a bath for your shoulder?’ he asked as he passed in front of the bathroom.

"You spoil me." John smiled tiredly. "I'll get them settled and have a talk with her about sleeping up there by herself. Put the kettle on too, would you love." Talking softly to Rosie he carried her upstairs. Helping her get settled with Sultan and her stuffed animals he promised they would be there in a blink if she needed anything.

Sherlock busied himself running a hot bath and unpacking their bags before starting the kettle. He prepared two cups of tea while waiting for the water to reach the correct temperature and once he poured the water over the strainers, he set a timer to be certain not to steep it too long as he opened his violin case and took it out to start playing a sweet melody he knew John liked.

Coming downstairs slowly he picked up his tea sipping it as he watched and listened to Sherlock. "You're beautiful."

Sherlock turned around, smiling as his eyes took John in. He still looked somewhat tired – although the sleep they’d had in the train might be a reason for it, as well as his worry over Rosie and the emotional toll of Christmas – and his clothes were creased but the look of fondness and love was a feature he’d come to see for some time and not recognise for what it was. If he were honest with himself, he still was surprised to see it. ‘So are you, John,’ he replied in a soft statement and continued playing. ‘I trust you’ll like your tea. Would you sit down while the bath is running?’ he added.

Sinking into his chair he sighed kicking off his shoes. "So bloody good to me." Smiling softly he sipped his tea slowly, eyes half closed as he let himself drift with the music.

‘Please. Anything for you. Although I have to say that turning on the taps, making tea… Neither of these is the feat of the year. I’m glad you like it, however,’ he said moving along with the music.

He smiled. "Still, I'm used to doing and giving until I'm exhausted, but happy. You spoiling me with simple, little things is nice. I appreciate it. A lot." He'd always been the one going out of his way to take care of and spoil Mary and had got nothing but bitched at for it. Nothing he had ever done had been good enough for her.

Sherlock nodded. He knew John’s life with Mary had not been exactly happy but John had never told him the particulars. This was as close as he’d probably ever say. ‘Well we’ll have to change that. Can’t have you exhausted while raising our daughter and living a dangerous life with me, can we?’ he teased.

"Never a dull moment." He laughed softly. "And you've always done plenty to make this place one where I can relax and feel settled. And Rosie too. She loves it here. Always has. Even if I didn't say we were coming here she seemed to know and was very excited."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. ‘Clearly she picked up on your feelings over coming here, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge them as they were staring you in the face. I can only hope the both of you are going to continue to love it here,’ he continued, the tone of the music lighter, the rhythm faster.

"We're not going anywhere, Sherlock. You have my word. You're Rosie's father in every way now. Even on paper. I wouldn't take her from you. We're both happier here. I know you and Mrs Hudson are glad to have us back. It's best for all of us. She's always going to love you and so am I. Don't ever doubt that. Even when I'm a terribly grumpy and cranky old hedgehog."

Sherlock smiled at John’s comment. ‘I’ll try to remember that. Do remember that the moody, fighty man you live with shares the sentiment, dear, even if he doesn’t say the words. I could hardly be happier to have you back here, with me. In my life. In every way that matters.’ He slowed down, swaying along with the music, his body accompanying the movements of the bow, before ending the piece, holding the last note, a hopeful, happy sound.

"You're too bloody gorgeous and downright sex on legs to be legal..." He murmured. "And it feels good to be able to say it out loud instead of just thinking it and keeping it to myself. I hope you plan on joining me in that bath you're running. We can check another thing off my list of all the things I've always wanted to do with you."

Sherlock smirked, putting his violin back in its case. ‘I assure you, I _am_ quite legal and completely yours to do as you will. I strongly encourage you _not_ to keep these thoughts inside but share them with me,’ he added taking a sip of his cup of tea, cooled down a little. He frowned. ‘Hm, I may have miscalculated. It’s not as good when it’s not hot anymore,’ he commented, putting the cup back in its saucer on the mantelpiece before walking towards the bathroom. ‘It must be at least half full, now. Coming?’

"Right behind you." John smiled. A bit of a rest and some tea had perked him up enough not to feel quite so half asleep. Then again the prospect of having Sherlock join him in the surprisingly large and deep tub was appealing. He'd warm their tea up after they got out. If they made it back to the tea which was more than a bit unlikely given their earlier conversation and Sherlock's mention of a list of things he wanted to do. John had his own rather long list and there was no time like the present to get started on it.

‘Yes, more than half-filled,’ Sherlock called from the bathroom. Not an innocent soul he had an idea of what could be on John’s mind – and after some of the emotional ordeal that happened while at his parents’ he very much needed to unwind and connect with his partner. He discarded his garments in their bedroom, uncaring where they ended up and hopped into the hot bath, relishing the soothing warmth of the water.

John shook his head with a smile. Only Sherlock would leave one set of clothes costing more than John made in six months in a pile on the floor. Well he'd get Rosie's help getting Sherlock to pick up. Dropping a kiss to his head John stroked his curls. "Thanks for this." Sinking in the water he leaned back into Sherlock with a sigh. "Your phone's been going off. Your brother. But I'm sure you already knew that." He teased.

Sherlock sighed as John settled against him and rolled his eyes at the mention of his brother. ‘Hm. I couldn’t care less that he wants to talk with me. Although knowing him it would rather be talking _to_ me. Did you get a chance to tell Rosie about the change in our sleeping arrangements?’

Snorting a laugh he nuzzled Sherlock's cheek. "Mm conversations with him are a bit one-sided, aren't they? If you don't answer him he'll start calling me." Chuckling he nodded. "She was half asleep but I think she'll be fine. She was snuggled up with Sultan and her stuffed animals happy as can be. She probably won't even notice.”

‘I’m sure she will,’ he trailed his fingers down John’s arms. ‘Also certain she’ll file it away as another “classic grown-ups thing”,’ he chuckled. ‘Well he can try calling either of us but now is “us-time” and nothing is allowed to disturb us. And certainly not he,’ he added.

"Mm not even a locked-room double murder?" He teased kissing him slowly. "She'll adapt fine. She adjusted to sleeping here fine. She's got Sultan there. And her stuffed animals so she feels perfectly safe."

‘Well a locked-room...’ he cut himself off. ‘I know of a few things that can happen in a locked-room. Interesting, indecent things,’ he growled lowly.

Chuckling John let his head fall back on Sherlock's shoulder nuzzling along his jaw. "Mm... is that so? And did you plan on sharing just what those indecent things could be? I know we've somewhat, very briefly discussed or mentioned a couple of them."

‘Indeed. I was thinking of returning the favour you did me on the train with the added bonus of hot water,’ he replied, his hands caressing John’s arms and torso. ‘Let you enjoy the warmth and other things while I take matters in hand,’ he susurred in John’s ear as he traced circles with his fingers, hand drifting down John’s stomach.

John hissed in pleasure hips lifting slightly in anticipation. "Mm... did you now? Well I would like that very much. And then there's all the other items on our lists to go through. And I'm sure we'll continue to add things to the list just as fast as things are crossed off."

‘I was, yes. Although it appears that I haven’t properly taken care of you for some time,’ he said voice tinged with regret as he brought his hand up to John’s torso once more. ‘You deserve more than a handjob, dear,’ he nipped at John’s ear, straightening himself up, extending his hand to reach the bath products. His bath products.

John chuckled shaking his head slightly. "And just how else are you planning on taking proper care of me aside from working on my shoulder and a hand job? Because both of those more than qualify as taking very good care of me."

‘I plan on bathing you. Kiss you and massage everywhere I can in here – not only your shoulder. I plan on leading a search party that will consist of me and my fingers. And then I plan on giving you a handjob. Would that be acceptable to you?’ he asked, squeezing cedar-scented shower gel in his hands before starting to apply it on John’s neck.

"Mm I think that's more than acceptable." He chuckled softly. "I like the idea of your search party. Then we'll feel what we feel like once we're out of the tub and dried off in bed. Never going to get an argument from me about wanting to touch me."

‘I am pleased to hear that, John,’ he said casually pressing himself against John, rolling the flesh of his back between his fingers, the lather of the bath product making it glide. ‘Relax, dear, you’re in good hands here,’ he kissed the side of his neck. ‘Now. Back to me, please. Let me do it properly.’

"Anything you say." He chuckled shifting slightly to let Sherlock do his work. "You have incredibly talented hands and I'd be a fool not to take advantage of you using them on me."

‘You would be,’ he agreed ‘and I would have to demonstrate just how talented I am so you would change your mind,’ he continued, turning his attention to John’s sides, applying pressure on the pads of his fingers as if he were playing a string instrument all the while kissing the base of his neck and the top of his spine.

John sighed contentedly leaning into Sherlock's hands as they found the smaller knots of tension. "Mm I already know how talented you are, love. And I enjoy being on the receiving end of that talent."

‘I certainly hope so. ‘How can you have knots there?’ he went back to rolling the flesh between his fingers for more efficiency. ‘What are those?’ he wondered, brushing against John’s erect nipples. ‘We can’t have that much tension,’ he declared as he started to circle around them. ‘On such delicate parts… fingers won’t be of much use, no matter how talented they are. Turn around,’ he demanded.

"So bossy..." John chuckled softly managing to get himself turned around without getting the floor completely soaked. Leaning back he smiled at Sherlock. "Now, am I arranged to your satisfaction?"

Sherlock took a moment to look him up and down and put himself up on his knees. ‘Hm, get back a little,’ he continued in the same tone of voice, bending so he could bring his mouth to John’s hard nipples and work his tongue around them, his hands on John’s firm buttocks. ‘There’s tension there, too. My dear John you do need to relax,’ he commented.

"Mm you going to help me get relaxed?" He husked running his hand through Sherlock's steam dampened curls. "I know you know just what to do so I end up completely relaxed." Moaning softly he pressed against him. "Mm... So good, love."

‘I am,’ he said, gripping John and pushing him back just enough to let him know that he was still very much interested in their activities. ‘Don’t. And keep the noise to a minimum,’ he ordered, staring him down as his dominant hand disappeared under the water, the movement of his arm suggestive of self-pleasure. He kept his eyes locked onto John’s. ‘This is what you do to me. Can’t let you have more power than that,’ he husked, applying his tongue once again to John’s nipples, biting on the tender flesh as his unoccupied hand massaged John’s left buttock, fingers prying into the cleft of his arse.

"Turnabout's fair play and all that, huh." John grinned. "I'll do my best. Don't forget to warm the water up a notch now and then. Make this much more pleasant for both of us." Hissing in pleasure John struggled to hold still against Sherlock's passionate attack. Wiggling against Sherlock's skilled fingers he moaned softly. "Bloody hell, you'll be the death of me..."

‘But one I know is worth it,’ he smirked, his fingers teasing at John’s entrance, bringing up his other hand up to massage John’s other buttock, sucking hard on his pectoral muscles before kissing the tissue of his scarred shoulder. ‘Beautiful, in and out.’

John moaned deeply pressing against him. "Christ, Sherlock, that's so good..." Really he should have seen this coming. Sherlock was amazing and threw himself completely into whatever thing he was currently doing. Cases, experiments, playing the violin, doing things with Rosie, and very apparently now that 'the beast' had been properly awoken sex was going to be on that list as well. He really had won the lottery with Sherlock. Everything he wanted and needed and then some.

‘Back,’ he growled, taking his hands off John. ‘Stand up and turn around. I need to see where this search party is going,’ he explained, kissing John deeply. Before he had the chance to turn his back to Sherlock, the latter took advantage of their position and took John’s wet, hard prick in his mouth. He quirked an eyebrow as if to ask if anything was the matter.

John huffed a laugh bracing one hand on the wall for support. "Bastard. Should have known you'd pull a dirty trick like that... Not that I'm complaining, mind..." He moaned tangling his hand in Sherlock's curls. "God I love you…"

Sherlock gently smacked John’s bottom before returning his fingers to the cleft and tender entrance of his arse. Circling around it, pressing the pads of his fingers with increasing pressure, the tip of his index finger penetrated the tight ring just as Sherlock sucked harder, helping John’s body relax against the intrusion. He let the tip of his finger in, not pushing in deeper until John accommodated.

Moaning deeply John rocked slightly hand slipping on the slick wall as he tried to grip. "Fuck..." He husked eyes following Sherlock's every movement. He had to appreciate the eagerness that Sherlock was devoting to this. "Amazing... You know that... You're amazing..."

Sherlock closed his eyes and hummed in agreement, swirling his tongue along John, softly pushing his finger deeper and holding him with his free arm. Before John could react, Sherlock had let go and gone out of him and pulled himself up to kiss him deeply. ‘Out. Bed. Now,’ he growled against John’s lips, voice low.

"Give a man a second to think." He panted hands resting on Sherlock's chest stroking gently. "I have very little blood supply going to my legs right now..." Tangling a hand in Sherlock's curls he pulled him down kissing him hotly. "You were amazing. Bed now." He nodded. "After we dry off a bit…"

‘Quickly,’ he replied all but springing out of the bathtub, handing John a towel before perfunctorily drying himself off. ‘No sense in being fastidious about it, we’ll end up sweaty in no time and will need a proper cleaning shower later. I need to make you feel good, dear. Hurry.’

"And we'll likely have to change the sheets too but moving will be easier if we're at least a bit dry." He chuckled drying off and following Sherlock.

As soon as John had crossed the threshold to their bedroom, Sherlock pounced on him, pressing his body against John’s more compact one, his hands roughly fondling every part of John they landed on. ‘Down. On the bed. Lie back,’ he groaned, voice low and husky.

"Your voice should be registered as a weapon when you use it like that..." He panted nipping Sherlock's lip. Settling himself on Sherlock's comfortable bed, (much more comfortable than the hard, narrow, lumpy mattress he had upstairs) he grasped Sherlock's hand pulling him down on the bed. "Gorgeous man of mine..."

Sherlock blushed but did not let himself be driven off course by John's compliment. ‘I think you’ll find that _you_’re mine, John. And the only recipient of that voice – not to mention these attentions,’ he growled, crawling on top of John’s body biting into his neck as he pressed their pricks against each other and extended his arm to take something from the bedside table.

John smirked shifting his hips against Sherlock's with a low moan. "Mm well we can argue over who belongs to who later. And I damn well better be the only one who gets to hear your voice like that." Hissing he tipped his chin up and to the side slightly to give Sherlock better access to his neck.

‘To whom, John,’ he breathed against John’s skin, licking a stripe where he’d already bitten, closing his hand around John’s wrist. ‘Hands above your head,’ he commanded, pinning him down as John did so.

"Can we _please_ save the grammar lesson for later? I'd have thought you had better things to focus on right now than that." He huffed a laugh. "Have to remember love, I'm not nearly half as posh as you." Giving Sherlock a teasing wink he moved his arms into position. Thanks to Sherlock's care of his shoulder he had a fair bit more mobility in it. It shouldn't strain it too much if he didn't have to keep it there too long.

‘Not my focus, John. It only shows you need to be taught a lesson. As you mentioned so rightly, I do have other matters to take care of. Now do shut up, dear. The only sounds I want to hear from you are just that. Sounds,’ he grinded against John, firmly holding him down.

"Then stop correcting my grammar you git." John huffed kissing Sherlock slowly. "Bit hard for me to focus on the other things you're doing when you're correcting me on little things." Pressing a foot down into the mattress for a bit of leverage he rolled his hips against Sherlock's slowly.

‘Sounds, John,’ he repeated in a low growl before kissing him long and hard, moaning as John’s movement provided even more friction. ‘But I see you’re going to be difficult so I’m simply going to stop what I’m doing now and get back to what I was doing before,’ he said, letting go of John’s wrists and pushing himself up, regretfully abandoning the delicious friction.

Well two could play at this game. Knowing Sherlock was slightly off balance he took advantage of the situation quickly flipping their positions and pinning the taller man under him. Smirking he looked down at him. Well it was good to know he could still remember how to do that if he needed to. "No, I don't think you're going anywhere…"

‘John!’ Sherlock was indignant but he would be lying if he said that John taking control did not make his heart beat faster and his cock swell even more. He groaned as his mind supplied him with the full picture of their position and everything that could happen. ‘Much as I love being at your mercy… Are you sure? You were enjoying yourself, as I recall.’

"Well you were the one who got his knickers in a twist over me using correct grammar when we were in the middle of much more interesting things." He shrugged slightly rolling their hips together slowly. "I was enjoying myself. A hell of a lot. Which is why I wasn't about to let you get out of bed. Now, if you're willing to stop correcting me about things that don't matter, especially not at this time, then I'm willing to let you up so we can get back to where we were. Your choice." He leaned down to kiss him slowly rocking against him teasingly.

‘I was going to go down. Not out of bed,’ he grumbled, refraining from saying how obvious it was – clearly John had not appreciated that. Neither was he about to tell him that he was not wearing knickers and therefore could not get them in a twist. He had a feeling John would not like that at all. ‘When have I ever stopped doing something without seeing it to completion?’

Laughing he shook his head. "You really don't want me answering that... All the times I actually got you to go to the shops and you'd get three things on the list. The time I had the flu and Mrs. Hudson had to go to the chemist’s to get me a few things because you were busy creating new insults for Anderson. Just the first couple off the top of my head. Still love you though." He smiled leaning down to kiss him.

A look of shame and regret passed across his features. ‘I’m sorry. Really am. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.’ His enthusiasm was starting to fade but he didn’t want not to finish what he had started. This was merely a temporary hitch. ‘Can I… Can we… get back to what we were doing? Please?’ he asked, unsure.

Nodding he cupped his cheek stroking over it gently with his thumb. "Of course we can. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Things were different then. I know you wouldn't do that now. Well, you might, but you'd be much sorrier for it and make it up to me. Live and learn, love."

Sherlock nodded. ‘I will. I am. Thank you. Now, where was I?’ he wondered seemingly having forgotten his actions from five minutes ago. He pushed his hips up and locked his legs around John’s pelvis, rocking against him. ‘Remind me, John,’ he said, his voice low and confident.

"Mm if I remember right you were telling me to be quiet and trying several very effective things. Ring any bells?" He smirked kissing him slowly. "Nice move by the way. May have to try it myself sometime." Running his hands along Sherlock's sides he smiled down at him. "Never going to get over how gorgeous you are and how lucky I am."

A predatory smile grew on Sherlock’s lips as he took hold of John’s wrists again, pushing against him to gain momentum so that their positions would be reversed once more. ‘Ah, yes. Pinning you down. It is coming back to me. But I think I was going to do something else. Down there,’ he added, his smile grown lecherous.

"Were you now? Well I'm sorry for interrupting." John chuckled deeply. "Nicely done using my own move against me. I promise to try and be quiet if you promise to try and refrain from correcting my grammar. Think you can do that?" he teased.

‘Then start now,’ he ordered, letting go of John’s wrists, keeping their bodies pressed together as he went down between John’s legs. He inhaled John’s musky scent, peppering hot kisses around his prick while one hand massaged his ball sack and the other went down between John’s cleft. ‘Hm, that’s right. You might be closed down again,’ he commented, putting John’s legs over his shoulders and bringing him down at the end of the bed as he kneeled. ‘Don’t want a crick to ruin it all,’ he whispered, his tongue darting to taste and kiss the tender flesh he’d worked on earlier. He licked on his index finger before repeating what he’d done earlier in the bathroom – but more quickly since it appeared that John was still open. Taking his finger out, he immediately put his tongue on the pink flesh, tracing wet patterns clockwise and anti-clockwise, starting from the centre to the outward of John’s entrance and vice-versa, following the nerves he knew were there.

John moaned softly biting his lip as Sherlock worked carefully. "Mm... that's so good love... Such talented hands."

‘You deserve to enjoy yourself,’ Sherlock replied, pressing two fingers coated in lubricant against John’s entrance as he continued applying his tongue. He pushed softly in but there still was a bit of resistance despite the lube. Sherlock decided to apply his mouth and his tongue on the nerves John was used to receiving pleasure through. Alternating long swipes and swirling with movements, twists of his wrist, Sherlock soon had John panting, evidently relaxed enough for his fingers.

"Always knew those fingers of yours would be good at this..." He panted eyes glazed as he watched Sherlock. "So gorgeous. Never going to get over how incredibly gorgeous you are..."

Sherlock moaned around John, all the while penetrating John’s most intimate place. He felt John relaxing enough to add a third finger but he elected to continue bringing him pleasure with two. Twisting his knuckles, grazing against the wall of tight muscles, Sherlock set the search party. Judging by John’s guttural groan and thrashing, the treasure had been quickly discovered. ‘You’re liking that quite a lot. I wonder whether you’re ready for more.’

Panting John nodded, hair sticking damply to his forehead. "God, yes. More than ready. You've been incredibly patient and careful. Always knew you would be." He smiled down at him.

‘I thought so. I think there’ll be a third finger inside you soon. You’re not quite ready for me just yet. You need to be fully prepared,’ he husked. ‘Now we don’t want you to be too sensitive but maybe… Yes, once more shouldn’t hurt,’ he teased, caressing the soft gland he’d uncovered minutes before, inserting his ring finger without the slightest resistance. He kept working his fingers inside John, preparing him for his prick for another few minutes even if John was ready; he enjoyed watching him pant and rock against his fingers.

"Now you're just torturing me." John panted. "Those fingers are amazing. Bet your cock's going to feel even better when it's in me. You're incredibly hard, love. Can tell you're aching."

‘Are you ready for me then?’ he slid his fingers out. ‘My, my, aren’t we wet in there. I’m going to have a good time – and so are you, if you rocking against my fingers was any evidence.’ He put his tongue against the extended ring of muscles while applying a large quantity of lubricant on himself. Teasing, he rubbed circles with the head of his prick against John’s inviting entrance. ‘Ask for it,’ he growled lowly when John tried to impale himself on Sherlock’s hard, engorged cock.

"Ask or beg?" He panted watching Sherlock's every move no matter how small. "I've wanted you for so long, Sherlock. Wanted this. I need you. Please love..." John murmured softly. "I need you... I want you inside me..."

‘Oh, you’ll beg more later, John,’ he groaned. ‘How can I refuse when you ask so sweetly?’ he pressed slowly, inch by inch inside John, relishing the hotness around him, eyes locked on him until he was fully seated, deep inside his lover. ‘All that preparation and you’re still tight… not complaining...’ he breathed. ‘I’m going to move. Slowly. Take you apart and enjoy the warm tightness of you,’ he murmured against John’s ear, laying on top of him.

Panting John kissed him slowly. "Bloody well not be complaining. I don't do this for just anyone. Just you now. Just you from now on. Just you forever. You can move. I'm ok. Just... slow. Still adjusting."

‘My dear John hurting you couldn’t be further from my mind,’ he breathed. ‘I will go slowly, John. Tell me if you need me to stop,’ he kissed his ear, the side of his neck as he supported himself on his forearms, moving slowly, breathing heavy. ‘You feel so good… tight and hot… inviting… welcoming… You okay?’

Nodding he breathed out slowly willing his muscles to stop protesting the intrusion. "I'm ok, love. Just fine. You feel amazing. Love how you fill me up. Knew you'd feel amazing. Best ever."

‘Good. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I certainly am,’ he almost pulled out. ‘I’ve not filled you up yet, dear,’ he entered him in one, long movement. ‘You feel so good, John. Mine,’ he kissed him ardently, his body rocking against John’s in a slow, hot motion.

"Yours. I promise." He kissed him slowly with a deep moan. "You feel amazing. Don't stop. I'm ok. More than ok. Waited so long for this. Better than I ever dreamed. Fill me up all you want."

‘You’re not going to regret it,’ he growled as he picked up a faster pace, his hands trailing down John’s arms to cup his buttocks. He straightened up, holding John’s legs up to get better access and thrust more efficiently.

"Never regret anything with you." He panted arching against him. "Fuck, that's it. You feel so good. Don't stop. You're so good... Just like that…"

‘Don’t… intend... to,’ Sherlock groaned. ‘’t is too… hot.’ He shifted his position ever so slightly in an attempt to hit John’s prostate.

John shifted his hips with a deep moan. "Good. Don't ever stop. Waited so long for this. Never going to let you go again. Never. Need you too much. Rosie too. Always need you."

‘Don’t move,’ he growled, taking John’s cock in his hand, Sherlock thrust more forcefully, seating himself completely inside John, aiming once more for the tender spot that brought John so much pleasure. ‘Not… going… anywhere… without you… John,’ he groaned, kissing and biting the inside of John’s leg.

"Fuck..." John panted eyes closing momentarily. "That's so good, love. So fucking good. Right there. Just like that." He'd expected Sherlock to be passionate and eager but he'd already proven all his expectations to be so much less than the reality. "Love you."

‘Found it,’ he smirked, thrusting into John, hitting John’s prostate and giving him as much pleasure as he could. ‘Breathtaking,’ he whispered as his eyes fell on John in the throes of passion. ‘Won’t stop. Ride it. So good, John...’ Bringing pleasure to John like that was beyond compare, he’d wanted to do that for so long, John deserved to be taken care of and adored and he clearly was having the time of his life. He’d go to hell and back for him.

"God yes!" He panted clenching tightly around Sherlock and meeting every thrust. "Right there. God you're good. So bloody good at everything you do." There was nothing he loved more than seeing Sherlock stop thinking for a bit and just feel. Things had finally fallen into place. "Love you. Always love you."

A large smile spread onto Sherlock’s face and pride swelled in his chest. He was taking John apart, probably more than he expected. ‘Love that… Making you feel sso good,’ he panted. ‘You’ve no idea… sso beautiful… Ssweet and sso tight… Sso much warmth.’ He increased the pressure and rhythm of his hand, ‘Want to kisss you, you’re too far.’

John smiled up at him. "Then lean down and kiss me you great gangly git. You're tall enough to manage it." Propping himself up on his elbows so Sherlock wouldn't have to lean quite so far he kissed him slowly. "God I love you... Never letting you go again. You are stuck with this grumpy old hedgehog for good. "You feel amazing. Love having you in me. So gorgeous. Love looking up at you, watching you. It's incredibly hot."

He bent down to kiss John’s neck, trapping their cocks under his taut stomach, keeping his thrusts at a regular if somewhat less intense pace. ‘John,’ he breathed against his ear, ‘want you on your sside. Have to pull out,’ he warned shifting so he found himself behind John’s back, immediately pushing back inside in a smooth movement.

John smiled at him. He loved when Sherlock lost focus and started to lisp. It was sweet, adorable, and sexy all at the same time. "All right then, love. I am going to miss watching you though." Shifting to his side he found a position that he hoped would keep his shoulder from camping, or worse, spasming, John moaned softly with a slight smile. "Love your talented hands... And mouth." It wasn't difficult to forget words. Not when Sherlock was doing such amazing things. Moaning deeply he took Sherlock's hand holding it tightly and kissing across the knuckles. "You feel so good, love. You're amazing... Never letting you go, never leaving."

Sherlock groaned loudly as the position enabled him to penetrate John deeper, moving slowly so that they both enjoy the ride, undulating his hips against John’s arse, cock brushing lightly against his prostate. ‘Do I make you feel good? You’re making me feel sso good, John,’ he breathed hotly against John’s shoulder.

John nodded kissing Sherlock's hand with a soft huff that was a half moan. "Yes, God yes, you are making me feel good. Beyond good. Amazing." Rocking his hips back against Sherlock he moaned deeply. "Glad I'm making you feel good too. Always want you to feel good…"

‘Coursse, you do. You always do,’ he whispered. ‘Even better,’ he remarked as he picked up the pace slightly, keeping John close with an arm under him as his other arm and free hand came to take John’s cock. ‘Heavy,’ he commented in a low voice. ‘I like that,’ he groaned and started stroking John. ‘Sso heavy and hard for me.’

"Fuck... Your voice..." He moaned deeply arching into Sherlock's stroking hand. "Bloody well know what it does to me when it gets all deep and rumbly like that..." Pressing back against him he moaned deeply. "All for you, love. All yours." All of this was more than a dream come true and a hundred times better than his best wank fantasies.

‘I never knew my voisce had ssuch an impact on you,’ he replied innocently in John’s ear. ‘You’re mine, John. I’m yours, but you are mine,’ he said, enunciating the words clearly, punctuating each of them with a powerful thrust and a twist of his stroking wrist.

All he could do was nod, panting and gasping for breath. God if he'd had _any_ idea Sherlock would be even half this good in bed he wouldn't have waited so damn long to make a move. "Yes..." He panted arching into Sherlock's hand and grinding back against him. "Yours."

‘Sstill speaking?’ he teased. ‘Monossyllables. Progresss. Musst be doing you right,’ he commented, chuckle dying in his throat as he stroke faster, pressing his other hand on John’s stomach to bring him even closer, to go further into him. ‘Yess...’

God it was good. So good to have Sherlock's taller, leaner body surrounding him holding and stroking him, positioning him. "Yes..." He panted eagerly pressing back against him and clenching tightly with every thrust. There'd been no shortage of very good and a bit of spectacularly amazing sex in his life but being with Sherlock was better and more intense than anyone before. "Yours." He panted willingly relaxing into him, more than willing to let Sherlock use him however he wanted and needed.

‘None of… that. Want to get you off, first. Look close,’ Sherlock protested and stroke harder, keeping the same speed. He knew John liked that pace – his increased breathing and heartbeat were good indicators. He didn’t stop taking John’s deliciously tight passage – tighter still when John had the _brilliant_ idea to clench around him. ‘That’s it, John, that’s it. Come for me,’ he ordered. He gasped loudly when John reflexively clenched his every muscle in the milliseconds before hitting his release. Sherlock knew he should have kept moving to maintain the sensations high – but he’d been incapacitated by the sheer force of John’s orgasm, leaving _both _of them panting.

There was only so much of taking orders John was going to tolerate. Just because he was in the midst of a blindingly intense orgasm didn't mean he wasn't going to use what little brain power he had left to at least try to get Sherlock off as soon and as hard as possible. "You..." He panted grinding back against him and clenching harder. "Fuck... Sherlock..."

‘Yess, John… Ssuch… Sso… _bloody _good_,_’ he took up moving inside John again. ‘Demanding,’ he commented, taking John’s hip in a tight grip for support as he thrust with all his might into John’s willing body. ‘F..._Fuck_, John!’ he exclaimed ‘God you’re sso…! _Fuck_! Yes...’ he groaned as he filled John up, his own breathing halting, his brain going offline, sensations (warm, John, happy) being the only things registering.

John panted muscles milking Sherlock of every drop as he shuddered against him. There was nothing quite like it. The sensation of being so completely filled like this. He didn't bottom often. It hadn't occurred to him how much he enjoyed it and had missed this feeling. Yes. Switching was definitely in their future. In fact as soon as either of them could possibly move he'd properly thank Sherlock for this. Panting and lazily kissing Sherlock's hand he shivered with a low moan, shaking with the aftershocks. He couldn't remember the last time he'd come this hard, especially being on the bottom.

Burying his face into the crook of John’s neck Sherlock caught his heavy, erratic breath. Unable to utter a word, he put both his arms around John in a protective, possessive embrace. He squeezed lightly, his limbs mostly gone numb and muttered indistinct sounds and sighs of contentment.

Panting he held Sherlock's hands tightly nuzzling them softly. Murmuring softly he smiled. It had been quite a while since he'd felt so secure, so settled and certain of things. "Amazing, beautiful…,” he mumbled.

Slowly Sherlock unlocked his arms, bringing them down onto John’s body, caressing in a feather-like way every part of his body, brushing his lips softly against John’s ear, whispering sweet nothings. ‘You. Explosive magnificence.’

Turning as much as he was able he kissed Sherlock slowly. It was messy and uncoordinated and he didn't exactly get Sherlock's lips but it was effort that counted. Smirking he nudged his nose. "Mm yeah well I think explosive applies to both of us on that one... That was incredible, love."

‘I know I should...’ he kissed John, having no idea how to receive such praise – how to verbalise how warm he felt that John had enjoyed it so much – and squeezed the hand he’d taken in his as he’d shifted John onto his back and leant against him.

Pulling Sherlock close he nuzzled his riot of dark curls. "The only thing you should do is just be here with me. You were amazing. Don't know how I ever got so lucky. It's been ages since I came that hard. You seemed to know what I wanted and needed before I did. Not surprised though." He laughed softly gently running his hand down Sherlock's back lightly tracing over the scars.

‘I am, John. You know I am. Always. Ages? I did something right, then’ he shivered against the soft brush of John’s fingers on his back. ‘John, please...Don’t?’ he murmured, unsure. ‘Let’s enjoy...this. Us. Please?’

Gently tipping his chin up he stroked his cheek lovingly. "Hey now. You look at me, Sherlock Holmes. Whatever happened, that's in the past now. All of it. From here on, from the minute Rosie and I walked back in here and you welcomed us home, we have a fresh start. We both have scars. They made us who we are. Everyone got us one step closer to where we are now. Please, Sherlock, don't ever hide any part of yourself from me. And I promise I will do my damnedest to do the same."

Sherlock sighed and nodded, looking away. ‘Yes, John. It’s just – they’re ugly. And not… Not all of them are gone. For now,’ he added in a whisper. ‘I’m not trying to hide, John. Anything you want to know… You need only ask,’ he closed his eyes before kissing John. ‘It seems I can’t get enough of you,’ he commented. ‘Don’t want to ever.’

"You never have to get enough of me. Promise." He gently turned his chin back. "I don't care if they're never all gone. They're not ugly. They're part of you. And you are beautiful. Outside and especially inside. I always thought so and I will fight anyone who disagrees. Chinned the Chief Superintendent for calling you a weirdo and we weren't even together yet." He teased. "Imagine what it'll be like now."

A throaty laugh rumbled out of Sherlock’s mouth. ‘I’d like to see that. Should not be against the law to physically hurt stupid, arrogant and narrow-minded folks,’ he smiled. ‘At least it shouldn’t concern you,’ he amended, electing to drop the sensitive subject of scars so they'd focus on the moment.

"Yeah well no one calls my best friend, the love of my life, my soul mate a weirdo and gets away with it." John humphed, grumbling. He didn't like the man. Not at all. He went out of the way to avoid John and Greg made sure to keep John away from him.

‘You’re quite right. You know… I’ve heard that he was under investigation for ‘poor management and treatment of the personnel’ as well as ‘suspicious leadership’. It seems you’re not the only one not to like him – and that Greg’s foray into politics is fruitful,’ he chuckled.

Snorting he shook his head. "I'm sure that his mistreatment of Greg caught the attention of your brother who made sure the investigation happened." Shifting slightly he kissed him gently. "Love you."

‘I love you, too, John,’ he sighed happiness dripping from him like honey from a beehive. ‘We should get cleaned up,’ he commented after a time, clearly not in the mood for that. ‘Tedious.’

"Mm suppose we should. And change the bed. Made a bit of a mess. Come on, we'll take a shower and I'll wash your hair." If anything could tempt Sherlock out of bed it was the promise of having his hair washed. "Then I'll make us some tea and we can have a bit of a snack. Mrs Hudson left biscuits for us."

***

‘That shower was something. But the bath was something else. Although I have to admit that I am partial to you using my shower products. And your fingers in my hair – I’ll need more da… Oh, what _now_? Mycroft’s _still_ trying to call!’ Sherlock exclaimed as he left the bathroom in lounging wear, aggravated at his brother’s insistence.

John smiled humming as he fixed tea and flexing his toes against the chilly floor. He really should have put socks on but he just hadn't bothered. Sherlock wearing one of his old thin t shirts and pyjama pants that hung tantalizingly low on his hips which was more than enough distraction to make John forget all about putting on socks. "Better answer him. Looks like he's tried calling me too. I'll get Rosie up from her nap so she can have tea with us."

‘Good idea,’ he replied falling dramatically on the sofa with a loud happy sigh. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of John fixing tea. ‘Clearly there’s something on your mind,’ he declared. ‘If you’re wondering what Mycroft could possibly want, I’m afraid I don’t know. He’s evidently something to tell me and he can do so through text. Or have someone do it for him.’

John smiled setting Sherlock's tea and a plate of biscuits on the coffee table. Kissing his forehead he smiled. "Well there's an easy way to find out what he wants. Read the text message. I'll be down with Rosie and Sultan in a few minutes." Stroking Sherlock's curls he smiled before heading upstairs to get Rosie up. Soon her footsteps and Sultan's paws could be heard. "I can do it Daddy." John smiled. "I know you can sweetheart I'm just watching you in case you fall." Huffing a bit she hopped off the last step making a bee line for Sherlock and crawling up next to him.

A blank look on his face that he hid as quickly as possible when Rosie entered the room was replaced in the blink of an eye as she settled next to him. ‘Hello little Princess. Did you sleep well? I hope that you’re feeling better. We’re going to have a visitor and I know he’d be loathed to break you,’ he said conversationally.

Wrapping her arms around him she tucked her head under his chin. "Yup. Me an' Sultan had good nap. Daddy said I get the room now. Jus' me an' Sultan an' my toys! You're nice to share your room since it's big."

John snickered from the kitchen bringing Rosie a juice box and a few biscuits. "Yes, it's very nice of Papa, isn't it?" Scrambling off the sofa she settled on the floor with Sultan with one of her favourite toys.

‘Daddy is very appreciative of that,’ he chuckled. ‘John, dear. That visitor… I don’t want to see him, but I’ve the distinct impression that the information he wants to communicate actually _is_ of the utmost importance. Can we have stronger tea instead of the regular one?’ he asked, the muscle in his left cheek twitching, the only indicator of tension.

John squeezed his shoulder. "Sure, yeah, sure, everything ok? He didn't give you any indication what this all was about?" Making a pot of stronger tea he brought a fresh mug to Sherlock. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it." He promised.

‘No, he didn’t. I imagine we’ll know soon enough but… I don’t like not knowing,’ he confessed in an irritated huff. ‘Brother mine, do stop loitering by the door and come in!’ he called.

‘Now, now, Sherlock, there is no need to be so curt. Good afternoon, John. Rosie, darling. You don’t mind if I take a seat, do you?’

Rosie smiled breaking away long enough to hug Mycroft's legs when he sat down. "Hi Uncle Mytoft." Plopping down on the floor by his feet she went back to playing with Sultan.

‘Could you please cut to the chase!’ Sherlock exclaimed, his frustration at not knowing right now, right this instant starting to reach tantrum high levels.

John put a gentle hand on Sherlock's leg. "I'm sure he has a good reason for being here. Let him say what he needs to say."

‘Thank you, John. Now, will you gentlemen take a seat?’ he gestured to their respective armchairs as he took a folder out of the business case he was carrying.

‘Mycroft… say your piece. Please.’

‘Please,’ he commented. ‘You really must be at the end of your tether, brother dear. After five minutes of “not knowing”… You’re getting better. What have you done to him, Doctor Watson?’

‘Must you, Mycroft?’ he took a seat, a deep scowl on his forehead.

Rosie looked up head cocked at the sharp tones. Papa sounded upset. John smiled stroking her hair. "It's all right, princess. Just Papa and Uncle Mycroft talking. You and Sultan keep playing. And he can't drink out of your juice box but he can have a small piece of your biscuit." Taking a seat by Sherlock he squeezed his knee. "It would be nice if you two would stop bickering. At least in front of Rosie."

‘I’m sorry, John. As you can see, Mycroft, we’re waiting for you to reveal that crucial piece of information,’ Sherlock declared, his voice sounding a little less upset as he disguised it under a veneer of distance.

‘Apologies, John. Yes. I imagine you don’t care much for the reason behind it so I will -’

‘Yes, skip that bit, Mycroft, if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Rosie is your child, Sherlock.’

‘That’s it? That’s your big revelation? I believe that paperworks had already been dealt with to make her mine. Correct me if I’m wrong – and I know I’m not – but John gave them to me not two days ago. Is that really the best you can do?’ he scoffed.

‘Sherlock. You’re not listening. Rosie is your child. Your _biological_ child,’ he precised, handing John the folder with the paternity tests.

John studied the papers finger skimming down the information. "How? Mary? I don't understand. I know it's cutting edge possible science that might be available to very wealthy people in another five to ten years but this... " he shook his head passing the file to Sherlock. "We're her parents. Both of us. Biologically..."

Taken aback by John’s acceptation, Sherlock threw a furtive glance his way and quickly surveyed the file, the numbers and proportions, reaching the conclusion with complete disbelief. Yet he had the evidence under his eyes. How…? ‘Baskerville?’

‘I’m afraid the intention was not as benevolent as the outcome proved to be.’

John ran his hands over his face. "I'm afraid you're going to have to break this down for me. Just how did this happen? I've read a few articles on it, but it's all still very theoretical... So Mary...?" he shook his head.

‘A surrogate. A willing surrogate, even though she was under orders and perfectly aware of what she was doing and who, precisely, she was going to bear,’ he replied in a detached manner. ‘Certain… organic matter from both of you was collected to access a particular type of cell. It implied… experiments and in that sense, my dear brother, you’re not too far from the truth when you mention Baskerville. Despite our best efforts the laboratory where these experiments have been done has not been found, but do give us a minute, we’ve only been on this case for half a day.’

John looked a bit pale and a bit green. "So she knew Rosie wasn't hers and mine? _That’s_ why she looked so shocked when Sherlock said something? Worried he'd got it figured out? Easy enough for her to get my DNA as it was. Not sure I want to know how she got it from Sherlock. Really don't... No wonder she never really cared a whit for Rosie..."

Sherlock took John’s hand, offering support at the delivery of yet another lie from his late wife. ‘Why exactly have you come to tell us that? To tell us that Moriarty’s plan failed – whatever it was? To upset John? To ensure that whatever happened Rosie would still be mine? What is so difficult to comprehend about the term of love, Mycroft? Even if she weren’t mine in that way, she’d still be mine in “all the way that counts”,’ he reacted, passion in his voice, protective of John’s feelings.

Mycroft held his hands up in a calming gesture. ‘I assure you, nothing could be further from my mind, Sherlock. I only thought that you should know.’

John squeezed Sherlock's hand stroking it with his thumb. "It's ok, love. I don't think Mycroft meant to upset me. Or either of us. He thought we deserved to know. And we do. I'm glad we know. Now I know why she sometimes looks and acts so much like you. Turns out I didn't need the paperwork after all. Guess it'll come in useful though. Easier than explaining it to people." He was rambling. He knew he was rambling but there was just no way he could shut up. "Can't believe this... It's more than I ever hoped for…"

‘To think that the idea of Rosie came from a ploy by Moriarty… It should make me sick. It would be poor manners of me to ignore the outcome, the beautiful little girl we have. Our little Rosie,’ Sherlock remarked thoughtfully, warm feelings of pride and happiness taking hold of his heart.

‘John need I remind you however practical you might think this information is that it is highly improbable and certainly the result of extremely dubious ethics. I entreat you to stay silent on that front until further notice. In that regard, the paperworks you had drawn to make Sherlock her legal guardian will be needed.’

John nodded. "Yeah. That's what I was figuring. Just easier all around for no one outside the few of us to know. Too difficult to explain. Since she's been around Sherlock so much it's no wonder she's picked up some of his mannerisms. We'll deal with the rest as she gets older." He shrugged. Smiling he looked at Sherlock. "Happy Christmas, love..."

Sherlock squeezed his hand, a smile floating on his face, disbelieving of the information he’d been provided with. Who could blame him if his answer to John’s Happy Christmas was slightly out of focus?

Mycroft chuckled and cleared his throat, clearly not feeling at ease with the emotional impact the news was having on his brother and acutely aware that an Intimate Moment would happen shortly.

‘I can see that you have everything under control, John – and that unlike my brother you are able to retain your brain and not be distracted by emotions. I shall see myself out, important national matters to take care of,’ he excused himself.

John chuckled. "Thank you, Mycroft. For everything. Rosie, sweetie, say bye."

Running over she tackle hugged Mycroft's legs. "Bye bye! I wuv you! Give kissy to Uncle Gweg for me! Pwomise!"

John scooped her up. "How about we take Sultan for a walk in the park, feed the ducks, and then go to Angelo's for dinner?" He smiled over at Sherlock as Rosie cheered the idea of dinner at Angelo's.

‘Yes, that… That sounds like a good idea. Angelo’s is… appropriate, in regards to certain – development,’ Sherlock commented, still dazed. Still seated on his chair, he opened his arms. ‘Before we go out… Papa needs a hug. From both of you,’ he asked his voice trembling ever so slightly.

"HUG!" Rosie crowed happily letting John deposit her in Sherlock's lap and hugging him tightly. John chuckled softly leaning over the back of Sherlock's chair and hugging him. "Love you so much... Can't wait to get you home tonight…"

Holding his _his! _daughter close, Sherlock buried his nose in her blond curls, dumbfounded that such a miracle could ever happen – to him, of all people. A few tears escaped from his eyes as he realised the monumental emotional impact such a seemingly insignificant piece of news had on him. ‘Nothing to worry about. Happy tears,’ he explained as a few tears escaped. ‘I love you two so much… My own happy family...’

Rosie blinked up at him with a slight frown. "Papa no sad? How come cryins? No be sad." She hugged him again trying to make sure he wasn't sad.

John smiled softly kissing his cheek. "He's not sad. Sometimes grown-ups cry when they're happy. Papa's ok. Why don't I help you put on your new Belle leggings and I'll help you pick out a jumper. It's chilly out. That way Papa can get dressed too."

‘Daddy’s right, Rosie. I’m perfectly fine, over the moon, really. I’m not sad, my darling little girl,’ he reassured her. ‘I’ll go get changed and we’ll go to the park. All three of us. Our own happy family.’ Still overwhelmed by the news he grabbed John’s hand, pulling him closer to him, kissing him almost fiercely. ‘_Our_ daughter, John. _Ours_.’

"FOUR, Papa! Sultan famiwy too!" She insisted giggling as he kissed John. Grown-ups were definitely funny. As long as Daddy and Papa were happy, that didn't matter too much.

John smiled at him. "Bloody well right she's _ours_. Ours completely. It was right in front of us and we didn't even see it... Can't wait to get you home tonight... We'll wear her out at the park maybe she'll turn in early."

‘Evidence right under our noses,’ he commented. ‘And we call ourselves detectives,’ he chuckled. ‘Turn in early. What are you implying, Doctor?’ he whispered.

John grinned. "Oh I think you know what I'm implying. A romp in the park, dinner at Angelo's to celebrate, we'll come home and give someone a bath" He tickled Rosie. "Maybe watch a Christmas special on the telly." She probably wouldn't make it through ten minutes but it would encourage her to doze off.

"Wif hot chocwat’ an' bizzycuts." She nodded.

John smiled. "We'll bring home some from Angelo's. I bet he has some of those special Christmas chocolate chip cookies ready. Papa is especially partial to those."

‘I admit that I am. Sweet tooth,’ he grinned. ‘It sounds like a very good plan, Doctor. One we should start executing this very instant,’ he declared, nudging Rosie down and all but leaping out his chair, dropping a kiss on John’s lips as he darted to their room, his emotionally compromised state of a moment ago replaced by a bubble of energy at the prospect of enjoying time with his family – and John’s promise to be realised.

"Come on little miss, we'll get you bundled up and out in the snow we go. We'll play in the park and then have a yummy dinner at Angelo's."

Climbing up the stairs with Sultan at her heels John followed a bit behind making sure she didn't fall. Getting her dressed he smiled. "Now, you have Papa help you get your coat and mittens on while I get dressed in something warm."

Downstairs he kissed Sherlock's cheek. "I'll be ready in no time. Don't forget your scarf and gloves. Don't want you getting cold."

‘I’m sure you’d warm me up, Doctor,’ Sherlock replied, smirking as he went to take Rosie’s coat and mittens off the peg. ‘There you go. Ready to face the cold,’ he commented as he carefully tucked her own scarf inside the coat he zipped up. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find you a new, soft one. And gloves!’ he added, presenting her with the mittens. ‘You’ll soon need to be able to use all of your fingers when outside,’ he commented. ‘Now… Shoes or… boots. Definitely boots. It’s cold outside, it’s snowed and you’re most likely to play in sludge,’ he smiled at her. ‘Nothing wrong with that, even I was not always fastidious about clothing when I was a child.’

John smiled at them smoothing the front of the new jumper Sherlock had got him. "We might even find a new scarf and some gloves while we're out. I think there's a nice little shop not too far from Angelo's." Sultan wiggled about them eager to go out. "I hold lead?" She looked up at her fathers. "Well, Papa or I will hold on to part of it and you can hold on to part of it. Just in case he pulls hard and it might be too hard for you to hold on to. We wouldn't want him running off and getting lost." John nodded thoughtfully.

‘Oh, a family outing!’ Mrs Hudson remarked, hands clasped on her chest as she saw them go through the front door. ‘Lovely! Rosie Watson, take care of your Sherlock and your Daddy. Don’t let them catch a cold,’ she advised.

Sherlock looked at John, an open expression on his face. ‘Care to do the honours?’ he asked in a whisper.

John grinned. "You do it, love. I think it'd mean even more coming from you."

Rosie smiled. "We goin' for a walk an' then we goin' to Angelo's!"

‘Angelo’s for dinner? It must be a special occasion! There isn’t much that could get these two out of the flat,’ she laughed. ‘Oh God. Is it serious?’ she asked, concern etched across her face.

‘Paramount. Not in a terrible way, I assure you,’ Sherlock replied walking back to Mrs Hudson, extending his arms towards her shoulders, excitement showing on his face. ‘You were right when you assumed we wouldn’t need two bedrooms when we first came to visit the flat. We were slow, far too slow.

A wide smile spread onto her face, her hands loosely clasped on her chest now clutched tightly. ‘At last! Congratulations for seeing sense! Oh, Sherlock,’ she breathed, joy stealing her voice.

‘It’s not the only good news that makes this outing a special occasion, Mrs Hudson.’ The memory of his brother warning them to keep the exact nature of the news discreet made him re-evaluate his words. ‘I’m Rosie’s father. Well, legal guardian. Christmas has a whole new meaning, now,’ he added, fondly looking at John.

John nodded with a smile. "Seems only right since she's called him Papa practically forever. Tell you what, after a walk and a bit of shopping we'll let you know when we're heading to Angelo's. Why don't you join us? A belated Christmas dinner." Rosie smiled bouncing on her toes. "Pwease Nana?! You come have dinner too. We famiwy."

"Right you are princess. We're a family."

‘Oh, Rosie! I’d be delighted! Christmas dinner with you three – and who’s that little bouncing ball of fur? She was not there before you left.’

‘That’s Sultan, Mrs Hudson. He’s the family dog and Rosie’s most loyal companion. John can be sneaky sometimes but I imagine he needed to run this idea by you so you knew we’d come back with a dog,’ he remarked. ‘He’s full of surprises,’ he added looking lovingly at John. ‘The crucial element to our family.’

John smiled with a wink "We might have had a theoretical about getting a dog at some point... I promise Sultan's already trained. He didn't have one accident in the house while he was with Sherlock's parents for a few days before we got there. Figured it'd be good for Rosie to grow up with a dog."

‘Well of course it’ll be good for her, silly. I can see their bond is quite strong already. Go ahead then. Off to the park with you!’ she ordered, shooing them away. ‘Oh, I’m so happy!’ she continued, retreating inside.

‘It went rather well, did it not? Nice idea, inviting her to dinner with us,’ Sherlock commented.

John smiled. "She's been trying to get us to see what was right in front of us from day one. Seems only right she celebrate with us. And there's a chance she'll insist Rosie and Sultan stay the night with her. Which means we'll be a bit freer."

Sherlock nodded. ‘Quite right. I suppose neither of us was ready enough to see the truth despite her efforts,’ he noted. ‘John… Was that a scheme to give us a bit more… privacy? As I said. Full of surprises,’ he added cheekily. Moments later they arrived to Regent’s Park and he crouched in front on his daughter. ‘Now then, Rosie. I am going to let Sultan go because I know how much he wants to run. I am certain he won’t mind if you chase after him, darling. Daddy and I will follow you closely, don’t worry. And afterwards, I think a bit of shopping and hot chocolate will be quite warranted, wouldn’t you agree?’ he turned to John.

John smiled. "And I know how much you both love Angelo's special hot chocolate. I think that'll be the perfect thing to get after going to the shops. We'll be very close by if you need us. I know Sultan will come back if you call him. Whenever you two are ready to go shopping, then we'll go. Have fun." Smiling he kissed her cheek. Looking up at Sherlock with a bit of a smirk he gave a half shrug. "I just happen to know how Mrs. Hudson thinks. Knowing her, she'll be eager to have Rosie stay over so we can have a little more privacy."

Sherlock gave John a smirk of his own and took his hand: while both gloved, heat was passing through the layer of the accessories. 'A celebration of our own. Do I want to know what it will entail?' he wondered in a low sultry voice. Rosie and Sultan had gone off running as if they were chased by a horde of Andersons, joyful shrieks and barks as they made a daring escape.

"Don't you think a surprise would be more interesting?" John smirked. "Be a lot more fun for you to spend the evening trying to deduce what I've got planned for us." Finding a bench he sat with Sherlock. "Look at our girl. Having the time of her life out there playing with Sultan."

'A complete surprise, then. I suppose I could deduce some of what you plan on doing - with some practise. At the moment... Yes, a complete surprise. Fits you perfectly,' he smiled lovingly at John. 'An awkward chase still, but it's never too early to start. She does sound happy. You really had a fantastic idea to get a dog. She adores him.'

John grinned nudging Sherlock in the ribs. "Doesn't hurt that you're more than a bit crazy about him yourself. It wasn't my idea. It was all your mum's idea. I just said it was ok with me and was sure it would be more than ok with you and Mrs. Hudson. It's never too early for her to start learning a bit of responsibility. Things like making sure his bowls are full and clean, brushing him, taking him out for a walk. That and every kid needs a dog growing up."

'You see right through me, John,' he admitted gracefully. 'All Mother's idea, hm? She really has a lot of hindsight,' he shook his head before turning more serious. 'John, all that insistence about growing up with a dog - not just any pet, but a dog. Is it because you... Didn't have one? I never thought it a worthwhile question, I'm sorry.'

John shook his head. "No worries, love. No. Harry and I didn't have a dog. There were a handful of stray cats over the years that would come around and Mum would give them scraps of this and that. They'd spend the winter in the shed in the back garden. Dogs teach a bit more responsibility. Not so scratchy as a cat. I mean, they can bite, but with a dog like Sultan, not too likely. I've got a bit of practice seeing right through you. And I happen to think your mum is brilliant."

'I'm sorry you didn't have a dog. They do help when it comes to learning responsibility. Even _I_ thought of Redbeard's needs,' he chuckled. 'Oh, I wouldn't say that it'd be completely out of the realm of possibility that Sultan bites. He wouldn't do anything to Rosie, but anyone who threatens a member of the pack would be in for a nasty surprise, believe me.'

'Oh yes, Mother has a brilliant mind. Where do you think mine comes from?' he asked in a haughty voice that didn't fool John - Sherlock was proud of his mother.

John snorted with a grin. "You don't fool me for a second with that tone. You're pleased as punch your mum thought of getting Rosie a dog so that you'd have a dog again. Sneaky. Another thing you got from her." Watching Rosie and Sultan he chuckled. "I've had a bit of a talk with her about being gentle and not pulling his ears or tail. I seriously doubt he'd bite any of us. Even a dog his size would make someone looking to hurt her, or one of us, think twice."

Sherlock nodded his assent. 'Or in the case of anyone with an Anderson's sized brain, come to a grinding halt and run in the other direction,' he added. 'Can't fool you anymore? Who says I was really trying to, John?'

Laughing he leaned into Sherlock. "Mm lots of reports show that criminals are MUCH more afraid of being bitten by a dog than shot at or anything else. Even a dog Sultan's size will make someone think twice about hurting Rosie." Nuzzling his cheek he smiled. "Oh I think you gave a half-hearted attempt at fooling me at first. And still do from time to time for the fun of it. High functioning sociopath my arse. You're as far from that as anyone can get."

'Hm, as you said. My heart is never fully in it. It can't be since you have it and you're the most generous and candid person I know. As well as a lot of other characteristics,' he smiled, pressing his body against John's.

Shifting slightly to wrap his arm around Sherlock's shoulders and pull him close he nuzzled his cheek. "I try to be. I think I manage pretty well on the generous part. As far as candid goes, life's too bloody short to fake things. There's a lot more important things going on."

'Yes, you do,' he agreed. 'Helping others... It's who you are, dear. Nobody could take that away from you even if they tried,' he added. 'Given how long it took us to get things right and how warped our paths were... I agree. Life is too short to pretend.'

"And you're quite the master of that as well." He chuckled. "You know no matter how hard I try, I think it's funny when you're bluntly rude to people who have it coming. Especially Anderson. You do your fair share of helping others too. You never hesitate to take a case if someone needs you, whether they can pay or not. It took us long enough to get here, but at least we're here."

'Is it considered being rude if the other party deserves it?' Sherlock wondered aloud. 'I would pretend I accept cases like these to the sole purpose of furthering your infatuation with me and bedding you... But that would be a blatant lie. Half of one. A fourth. An unconscious eighth.'

Laughing deeply John nuzzled his cheek. "You do them out of the goodness of your heart because you want to help people. Which you know impresses me and furthers my infatuation with you which makes me much more inclined to take you to bed and do any number of very pleasant and unspeakably good things."

'Does it really? I never suspected,' irony lacing Sherlock's every word.

"Git." John giggled pressing a kiss to Sherlock's jaw. "You're good at showing off for me, getting what you want." He teased sliding a hand along his leg slowly. "You realise it's going to be even worse now. The entire Yard's going to hate us for being so sappily in love with each other."

'You wouldn't love me half as much if I weren't good at getting what I want when I want it. So oftentimes you. Although... A locked-room triple murder with seemingly no weapon... I admit that had a certain charm,' he teased.

"Berk." John laughed leaning into him. And sometimes you're right about things, even if you don't always say it in the right way. You're always completely you and I love that. Always have, always will." He kissed his cheek.

He covered John's hand with his own, breathing deeply. 'However you... Hold a definite interest to me. I was going to say that "you hold the key to my heart" but that is so... Soppy that I'll abstain from saying it. Why would I change who I am? It doesn't make sense to even think of doing that,' he reflected.

"Well I happen to like soppy in case you haven't noticed by now. I'm a bit soppy myself. Holding the key to your heart's a bit more romantic than just holding a definite interest. But coming from you, it's pretty romantic." Chuckling he nuzzled his nose against Sherlock's jaw. "Some people try and change who they are to suit others or blend in better. You don't do that. Never have. I always liked that and admired it. Quite a bit."

'Obviously I've noticed, John. I lack the arrogance to ignore details - particularly when they're anything but, from giving me a cup of tea without me actually asking for it to - No, that's just... Who you are. Forget I said anything, dear,' he replied turning his head downwards to catch John's lips. 'Please don't do that. Try and change, obviously. Do carry on with your... teasing. We'll see if you can keep that up until after dinner,' he smirked.

"Oh you know I can keep it up." He smirked. "Keeping it up has never been a problem. And I don't plan on changing. Life's too short. I'm just a bit better at being nice to people because it's what's expected by society. And if I didn't bring you tea even without you asking for it you'd go all day without drinking anything and that's not healthy." He scolded lovingly.

'Am I supposed to be... alarmed by what you're professing?' he replied, arching his eyebrow and making it heard. 'Society is boring. Dispense with the niceties and the chains of conformity. Works well for me. Managed to attract _you_ did I not? A doctor who cares for a distracted genius with unhealthy habits,' he replied. 'I'd be lost without my... Colleague, blogger, captain, doctor, friend, partner. You.'

Laughing he kissed him. "Well one of us has to be the nice one that gets along with people most of the time. I'd be just as lost without you. That much was pretty obvious. Rosie and I were in a hell of a mess when we came back. I don't think I could have held out alone for much longer. But now we've got you and everything's the way it should be."

'Quite so,' he confirmed. Silence settled upon them, the warmth of their love and the passion between them growing, making the cold of Boxing Day all the more tolerable. Ahead of them they could still hear Rosie playing with Sultan - the sound of their happy daughter soothing any bad memory that could have awoken through John's reflection. 'I still find it difficult to register. That she's as much mine as she's yours. I know it doesn't - shouldn't make any difference but I feel even more connected to her with that knowledge.'

Squeezing his hand he smiled. "I'm glad you feel even closer to her. Not that it makes that much difference. You love her so completely that it makes me love you even more. Guess we just couldn't see the forest for the trees." Watching Rosie and Sultan he leaned into Sherlock. "Rosie, love, let's get a bit of shopping done. Get you a warmer scarf and mittens. Angelo will be waiting for us." Running back to them with cheeks pink from the cold she climbed up in Sherlock's lap. "We get tirrimissu at Angelo's?"

'The deception really was audacious. Evidently the detective that I am wants to know what the specific goal of that deception was... However the father in me could not care any less about the reason why. It appears to me to be more important to focus on the solid, tangible fact of her existence in our lives than waste time in conjectures,' he replied, putting an arm around John's shoulder. 'Anything you like, my lady. As long as it's... Suitable to be ingested by a toddler,' he added passing a gloved hand through her hair then cupping her cheeks. 'I imagine John values diversity in meals, however, so you will have to eat your way through dinner before having _tiramisu_ darling.'

Huffing a sigh she nodded. John smiled at the pair. "How could I miss when she's in a bit of a strop she looks so much like you." Laughing he kissed both of them. "Don't pout, you love Angelo's lasagna. Both of you. And a couple small bites of tiramisu are fine." He winked at Sherlock. "I'm sure he'll have a caffeine-free non-alcoholic version available for his favourite customers."

'I don't know - but then again, being immediately concerned made it all the more difficult to perceive. To either of us,' he sighed clearly put out by his own failure at observing the obvious details of Rosie sharing half his DNA. 'You see, Rosie? Diversity. But Angelo's lasagnas are delicious, neither of us is going to have a hard time eating,' he told Rosie confidently. 'I'm completely positive that Angelo won't deny her that. I'm not convinced I’d want anything non caffeinated. Someone gave me the impression that the evening and night would prove... Strenuous in a most delightful way,' he added lowering his voice.

John shrugged. "Even a genius is allowed to overlook things." He scooped Sultan up gently removing the snow from between his toes. "I'm sure you two will love his lasagna as usual. As for dessert, a bit of a caffeine boost might not be a bad thing. Help you stay awake." He winked.

'So I surmised,' Sherlock replied aiming at a detached tone, missing it by a mile. 'Are we ready to go shopping for a new scarf and gloves?' he asked Rosie.

Rosie nodded arms around Sherlock's neck. "Yup. I wants pink an' purple an' blue an' green an'..." She thought for a moment. "Yellow." John shook his head laughing. "Well we'll see what we can find." Tucking Sultan inside his jacket he smiled. "And maybe a jumper for him."

'Pride is in June I think, according to the social calendar,' Sherlock laughed, cupping Rosie in his arms as he stood up. 'At the moment the colour trend should be closer to red, green and white,' he replied. 'But I'm confident we will find something worthy,' he soothed, seeing her perplexed. 'A jumper, John? Really? Please don't let it be a ridiculous one, at least.'

John grinned. "He's little and he's cold. A jumper or something would help him keep warm. And our little princess loves colours. Of course we'll find something bright and cheerful. I was thinking it might be fun to paint the room up there." Rosie nodded eyes wide.

'It would make a bright start into the New Year, I agree,' Sherlock smiled. 'Would it be a good idea to paint stripes of different colours? Would you like that, Rosie? Or maybe something a little more... Cheery and less methodical?'

She nodded. "Pwincess. Wit a castle an' a nice dagon." John smiled. "We'll see what we can do. I'm not much of an artist."

'I'm certain that we can do something very much worthwhile,' Sherlock countered. 'It would require some practise but I am positive the end result would be satisfying. And accurate.'

"A princess bedroom it is then. We'll look at some ideas and figure things out." He smiled.

They made their way out of the park onto the street. Sherlock put his hand up to hail a cab. 'Mayfair,' he told the cabbie. 'We're going to Pickett's, I am certain they'll have wonderful gloves for Rosie. For you, too,' he added.

John smiled, shaking his head at Sherlock's ability to summon a cab from thin air. "Do they just drive around and wait for you? How do you do that?"

'Oh, that. You should ask them,' he dismissed. 'I am not going to explain something that you've always seemed to find so fascinating,' he added, chuckling slightly.

"Berk." John chuckled scratching Sultan's ears. "One more thing the great mysterious Sherlock Holmes can do."

'I thought you liked my being mysterious,' Sherlock retorted, mock-offended. 'There are other things I can do that you're not familiar with just yet,' he added matter-of-factly.

"You're always going to be mysterious. Never worry about that. And that sounded like a challenge to me. One I'll gladly take you up on any time."

'I didn't mean it as a challenge per se but if you'd rather I did, then yes. I'm quite pleased you want to take me... up on it,' he replied suggestively.

"Any time. Within reason. Middle of dinner, probably not. Or the middle of a case. Otherwise I don't see why not." He grinned.

Sherlock smirked. 'When you say middle of a case is that euphemism for... In the public space? You'd be surprised how often the... fancy has taken me to do just that.'

Blinking a few times to process the information he smiled slowly. "Give a man a bit more warning before dropping something like that on him. And I meant the middle of a case in general. But public places, pretty much any place that's not our flat or a nice hotel is off the list. Wouldn't want to be taken in for public indecency." He chuckled. "We have a lot of list time to make up for."

'You are underestimating my abilities to escape the notice of others, John,' he whispered, a hungry smile dancing on his lips. 'As for warning you - I should think not. Mystery and surprise. Besides, I would have thought it would have been... obvious,' he added.

"I tried to ignore it. Not exactly sure why. Complicated. And you're really tempting my resolve to keep certain activities limited to areas with a bed." He chuckled shaking his head. "The train was a bit of an exception."

'Yes, I gathered as much,' he sighed, remembering the moment. 'I am not tempting you to do anything, John. I'm merely reminding you of a few things - and telling you that one cannot be tempted if there isn't a spark of interest in the first place,' he continued in the same faintly veiled seductive tone of voice. Through the rear-view mirror, the cabbie was looking at them disapprovingly - but remained silent: he had recognised Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson who were quite popular figures with influential connections and neither of them had done anything out of place.

John chuckled shaking his head. "I think we better finish this discussion later and you're almost always right. You know there's interest. I'm not that dense. Just trying to set some ground rules to keep us out of too much trouble. We'd never hear the end of it from Greg if we got arrested. Again." He laughed.

'Might as well. We're nearly arrived anyway,' he said while Rosie was _snorting_. 'You do know that rules and I don't really get along well,' he chuckled, voicing his daughter's thoughts. 'I wouldn't be so sure about that. I think it'd be too... embarrassing a subject for him to remind us.'

"And I'm going to ask you to try and set a good example for her by following _sensible_ rules. Not all of them, not all the time, but reasonably consistent." He paid the cabbie leaning over to kiss Rosie's cheek. "And that goes double for you, young lady. Rules are a good thing. Usually."

Sherlock pulled the collar up of his buttoned coat, getting off the cab in a dramatic manner, coat billowing behind him, not sparing a glance at the cabbie – as he would. ‘John,’ he started, complaining. ‘Rules are _boring_. Extraordinary limitative, imprisoning one’s will and ultimately annihilating one’s very desire to explore and grow.’

Smiling he shook his head. "Oh so if we were at a street corner and Rosie wanted to dart across with traffic moving like it does, that'd be fine because you're not supposed to cross when you don't have the crossing light?"  
He knew Sherlock would never let Rosie do something so stupid, but it was all he could come up with off the top of his head.

Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes. 'Please. Rosie would never consider doing something as idiotic as that.'

Rosie nodded. "Yeah, Daddy. Wouldn't do dat. Too smart to do dat."  
Laughing he shook his head. "It was just an example you two."

‘Anyone who has the ability to think and uses it adequately doesn’t need rules. The rest is irrelevant,’ Sherlock insisted, nodding approvingly at Rosie. ‘Two against one. You don’t stand a chance, John,’ he continued, chuckling softly as they entered the high end luxury shop.

"Yeah, we'll see." He laughed doing his best to keep Sultan hidden in his jacket. Rosie looked around with wide eyes. "Wow…"


	2. A Battle for Jumpers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an eventful Christmas and the even more eventful and important reveal that Mycroft brought to Sherlock and John's attention, Sherlock, John and Rosie (and Sultan) go outside for some family shopping time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that posting on Saturdays would be easier for everyone, please let me know in the comments!

A woman in her thirties stood behind the counter, presumably reading accounts of the sells and balancing them out, comparing them to those of the previous months. A small smile came up on her lips as she heard Rosie’s appreciative comment. She greeted her customers cheerily, informed them that if they needed anything she would gladly help them, but otherwise stayed put as she recognised Sherlock Holmes: it was a well-known fact that this man didn’t need help for anything and certainly not when it came to shopping or that he was well-used to the kind of shop she was currently working in.   
Sherlock Holmes nodded at her, but otherwise ignored her unlike his partner and the little girl. She was probably not going to get used to being treated as an inconsequential person and dismissed until her wealthy, posh customers deemed it necessary. Sherlock Holmes’ greeting was the most she’d received in a long time: he might not be _that _posh after all – and if he were, clearly not mindful of their frankly old-fashioned, disrespectful etiquette.  
‘Surely you don’t disapprove of the shop, John?’ Sherlock suddenly asked, mindful of not upsetting his partner, aware that this kind of opulence was likely to upset John – less so nowadays than it used to, however. ‘Leather, high quality material is obviously costly but is more than adequate with our lifestyle. We also have more than sufficient amounts of money to afford it. Besides, Rosie is quite obviously taken with all of it,’ he added.

Rosie smiled shyly waving at the lady. John rubbed her back. "Big store, isn't it. Why don't you ask the nice lady where the scarves and gloves are." Sultan poked his head out of John's jacket nuzzling Rosie. Taking a deep breath Rosie nodded. "Where scar an'gwoves? Pwease."

The shop assistant smiled gently, warmly at the little girl and ignored the small fluffy head she noticed hidden underneath John Watson’s jacket. _It is cold, after all_, she reasoned. ‘Good afternoon, young lady. I can see that you already have quite the fashion taste – accessories are indeed extremely important and I’m sure it’s you who decided to enter this shop. The scarves and gloves are at the back, if you will follow me, miss… ?’

‘Watson,’ Sherlock cut in. ‘Obviously,’ he added though without much of his usual bite. ‘I know Pickett only offers accessories for adults but you also offer bespoke services. John Watson’s little girl wants a pair of gloves similar to mine as well as a scarf made of cashmere and satin, and I am absolutely certain you can have them made in short time. I presume you will need to take measurements as well.’

Amelia stood straighter as Sherlock Holmes addressed her. ‘Indeed, sir, it is absolutely possible,’ she nodded. ‘I will also need to see your gloves to make note of the kind of design she would like.’

‘Good,’ he replied taking his own gloves off and holding them to the woman. ‘How soon can we expect them to be ready?’

She was quite sure that she wouldn’t be making a social faux-pas if she were to remark on them out loud as her customers didn’t have a reputation to put much stock into rules; even though she was marvelling at the top quality of Sherlock Holmes’ gloves, she remained silent and kept her praise to herself. ‘With the work involved on the leather for the gloves you could expect them in five days’ time. Depending on the material that is already available, you should be able to retrieve the scarf by tomorrow morning – or the day after that. Is there anything else that you need?’ she enquired. ‘An accessory for Mr Watson?’ she suggested.

Rosie smiled giggling at the size of her small hand on top of Sherlock's much larger one. "Yes pwease." Rosie smiled. Much of the details went over her head but she was getting gloves and a scarf just like Papa's so the rest really wasn't that important.   
John grinned. "Next thing you know she'll have a version of your coat in her size. Thank you very much for your help. We appreciate it."   
‘Try not to put this idea into her head, John,’ he retorted. ‘She doesn’t need one, anyway.’ His tone was deliberately distant, uncertain as he was at this very instant to make his relationship with John public.

  
John smiled warmly. Sherlock would probably insist on getting him something. He wouldn't argue too much. Wouldn't be polite. As long as it wasn't too ridiculously expensive.

‘I am aware that this amount of luxury doesn’t sit right with you, John but I’m also equally aware that you need a new scarf – and that your wardrobe is in dire need of improvement. I’m feeling generous today, let me choose one for you and pay for it.’ His tone was detached and it pained him to put John through this charade: he stepped in his personal space, looming over John’s smaller frame, seeking contact to reassure him that this cold persona was not in any way real.

John smirked up at him one brow raised. "Should have told her Rosie's name was Watson-Holmes. However much you're comfortable with people knowing, I'm fine with. I don't have to put the idea in her head. I've watched the wheels turning in her head on the idea for a while now." Standing on his toes for a moment John stole a kiss. "And I'll let you spoil me just this once. Let's not make a habit of it, shall we."

‘Taking control, Doctor Watson? How tremendously ambitious of you,’ he chided half-heartedly. ‘Rosie’s name is not Watson-Holmes,’ he remarked to himself in a murmur, as if only realising the possibility of her carrying his name as well and the implications behind it.  
Not about to voice her opinion and note their obvious involvement, Amelia pointedly ignored Doctor Watson’s mark of affection and refrained from informing Mr Holmes how pointless his act was, focussing on pleasing the little girl and finding a scarf she liked.

Ever practical John shrugged. "Why not? You're her father too. Don't see why she shouldn't have both our names. Besides might actually help her. And I think she'd like it." Rosie smiled finding a scarf in a deep green. "Daddy! Look! Pretty!" Wrapping it around his neck she kissed his cheek. "Daddy pretty, right Papa?"

'Mouth of babes,' Sherlock whispered, a smile spreading on his lips. 'Yes, he is, Rosie. Of course he is,' he replied warmly. 'I don't doubt that she'd like it. I'm not entirely sure how this would help her, let alone why she'd need helping.'

"Maybe just because she'd like it. And it might help her someday. To just have people know that there's a bloody good reason for them not to mess with her. Beyond the razor sharp wit I'm sure she's already developing. And chances are people will figure it out. She might as well embrace it. Which I'm sure she will." Stroking the soft fabric John smiled. "Guess I'm outvoted. Looks like I'm getting a new scarf."

Sherlock looked at John quirking an eyebrow. 'Of course you are but don't pretend for one second that you're upset about it.' He paused for a moment, contemplating the idea of his daughter bearing his name as well as John's.   
'What you're saying makes a lot of sense but there would have to be paperwork involved. I refuse to ask Mycroft for any sort of help,' he added somewhat petulantly.

John smiled. "Ah but you're forgetting that we have a secret weapon. Two, actually. Your mum and Mrs Hudson. He doesn't dare cross either of them." He smirked.

'Yes, that's true,' he chuckled but didn't pursue the subject: what was there to say? 'About that scarf I do hope you like it?'

"Yeah, I like it. Kinda hard not to. Better be careful or you might spoil me and I'll get too used to this sort of thing." He teased still a bit uncomfortable with it all.

‘Good. Don’t be so tense about it. It’s not as if I couldn’t afford it or would give you presents like this every week. I do hope you’re not imagining… I’m up to something, are you?’ he asked, worried about John’s evident reserve, placing a hand at the small of his back to comfort him.  
John smiled. "Not worried. And I don't think you're up to something. At least no more than usual." Leaning into him comfortably he smiled. "A conversation for another time, but I'm sure you've deduced it all anyway."  
‘I surmised – _let’s_ have this conversation later. I might have deduced some of it but not the particulars. Besides, isn’t that part of the… communicating part of being a couple?’ he replied in a low voice as John leant against him.

Amelia returned to her customers, blushing slightly at the evident show of affection displayed in front of her. She ignored it as was the policy. ‘I can see you’ve chosen a highly fine scarf – extremely good quality, very soft – pashmina cashmere. A very good choice,’ she approved, holding out her hand. ‘I’m going to make a box so you can take it with you,’ she explained as the smallest of the two men looked puzzled.

Nodding to Amelia he gave Sultan's ears a rub. "Do you happen to know anywhere close we might be able to get this little guy a jumper or a jacket of sorts?"

‘It depends on what kind of budget you plan on spending and the kind of jumper you want for him,’ she replied amiably, taking a box and placing the scarf delicately in it. ‘I am certain you could have a tailor make one for him but there’s also a very decent animal shop just twenty minutes away – Pet London.’  
‘Straightforward,’ he commented.  
‘You’ll be looking at quality clothing and accessories if you go there,’ she added, aware that items of a good quality were most likely to be what they looked for if the way the puppy was gently petted and huddled inside his master’s jacket was of any indication.

John smiled at her. "Thank you. And we appreciate you overlooking Sultan being here. We weren't quite expecting to shop much and we couldn't leave him outside. Not that Rosie would have let us. Christmas present from her grandparents."

Amelia smiled, looking at the sweet little girl who was holding both adults’ hands, balancing softly on her toes. The four of them painted a pretty picture and looked perfectly at ease with each other, not at all showing any kind of distance – Sherlock Holmes had foregone the act soon enough, doubtlessly influenced by his partner. She decided to throw the shop’s policy out of the window. They were the only customers after all and unlikely to cause any trouble.   
‘Of course. How nice of them! Children should have a pet to grow up with. It seems to me that this little girl is cherished by a lot of people and possibly spoilt. Then again, we want to please our loved ones at Christmas, don’t we? Forgive me for saying so, it is not my place,’ she added after a slight pause. ‘How did you call him, little lady?’ she asked Rosie curiosity written plainly on her face.

Rosie smiled. "An' fanta came an' broughted me pwesents. I got toys an' books an' clothes an' a chemistry set so I can do 'speriments wif Papa an' Sultan's my bestest friend!"

‘I’m sure Sultan is proud to have such a nice friend and your parents such a lovely, clever little girl. So Christmas is your favourite holiday, isn’t it?’ she enquired, knowing her answer would be positive – as 99% children would. It was so rare that she was able to have a discussion with her customers – and that they had a talking child with them, too. A child that was seen _and _heard in a good way. She hoped they would not leave too soon but Sherlock Holmes was vibrating with unspent energy behind the little girl and she could see in his demeanour that he was not comfortable in the shop – it was after all designed for well-to-do customers to choose items, pay and leave quickly: they were not meant to stay longer than strictly necessary.

John smiled stroking Rosie's curls gently. "Well now that we all have some more things to keep warm we better go get Sultan something warm to wear too. Then we'll go meet Mrs. Hudson for dinner."   
Rosie smiled waving to Amelia. "Bye bye."

‘I am extremely delighted to have met you – and hope to see you again. Goodbye and have a lovely end of year celebration,’ she cheered as they left through the door. Meeting interesting people, celebrity or not, was a decidedly nice way to brighten up an otherwise dull day.  
  
Sherlock paused and took the bag out of John’s hand, extracted the box and delicately took the soft scarf from it. He looped it around John’s neck, a tender smile on his face, his eyes crinkling. They made their way towards the shop Amelia had recommended, Sherlock walking close to John.

John smiled up at him stealing a kiss. "It's soft and lovely. Thank you, love. Nice of her to overlook that we had Sultan with us." Chuckling he looked down at the puppy who was looking watching the pigeons curiously. Rosie smiled. "Sultan's good."

He frowned slightly but relaxed immediately as he realised no one was about – which for London at this time of year was extremely rare. He wished the CCTV cameras had recorded John’s affectionate display. ‘You’re very welcome, John. I do concur with you, but throwing us out because of it would have been a poor choice on her part. We evidently had come specifically here to make a purchase – or several. It’s not as if she were unaware of our identity and of certain characteristics that my family has. Besides, refusing the dog entry would have meant that none of us would have come inside and she wouldn’t have had an interesting day at work – she was bored out of her mind when we entered and considerably chirpier when we left. Consequently, had she indeed not overlooked Sultan, it would have resulted in loss of profit for the shop – not to mention a negative word-of-mouth and a dull day of work for her. Economically and personally, she played her cards right.’

John chuckled. "And maybe she decided to be a nice person and overlook Sultan. Especially as a couple and their daughter were there being extremely polite."

‘Maybe,’ Sherlock conceded. ‘You’re the expert on people. And politeness.’ Sherlock paused for a short moment, watching his daughter walking ahead of them. ‘Rosie was even more... well-behaved than usual though she was as happy and bright as any other day. She must have sensed you were not quite at ease with the whole situation,’ he commented off-handedly.

John smiled. 'It was her first time in a store that big and fancy. Amelia obviously knew you so she was being nice to one of your friends. Or someone to her way of thinking is a friend. She probably picked up you were a bit on edge too." Glancing up at him he squeezed his hand. "Look if you need or want me to tone down the public displays of affection, I can. I don't mind. Whatever makes you comfortable." Watching Rosie near the corner he kept an eye on her. "Remember to press the button and wait for me and Papa."

‘John, she obviously recognised us from the papers. And your blog,’ he added, dismissing the fact that his family name was well-known in upper middle-class circles as he knew that this always made John uncomfortable. ‘On edge… Yes, I imagine that’d be it. However don’t ask me to find rhyme or reason to it,’ he murmured. ‘Although you touching me helps me as you’ve no doubt noticed, I find it has the opposite effect in public,’ he confessed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added in a whisper. ‘You do know it has nothing to do with me being afraid that people would talk, I hope. I couldn’t care less about them.’

John shrugged a shoulder giving Sherlock's hand a squeeze. "Some people are ok with it, some aren't. It's an individual thing. I don't take it personally. Not when I know how you really feel. Just know that whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'm here. It's going to take some work for us to get it all figured out. We'll get there." Rosie bounced on the balls of her feet eagerly watching the lights above her, waiting for them to change. "Daddy! Papa! Hurry!" John snorted a laugh. "Look at her. How many times have I seen you bouncing like that?"

He inclined his head, touched by John’s words. ‘Thank you. Needless to say, I will always be there for you too.’ Looking ahead of him at Rosie’s call he shook his head on John’s question. ‘Not over slow traffic lights,’ he chuckled.

"Not over slow traffic lights but plenty of other things." Chuckling he took Rosie's hand. "We're here. Hold on to Papa's hand too. We've got plenty of time to cross the street."   
Bouncing between them she nodded. "We get Sultan a jumper?"   
John laughed. "Yes. At least one and probably some toys too. You can help him pick out the toys he wants."

‘Ah, I sense a line over the fact that jumpers are good and comfortable even for dogs,’ Sherlock teased. ‘Darling I know you’re a ball of energy but I’d be very grateful if you weren’t so impatient while we’re crossing the street. What if you let go of us and fell?’

Rosie blinked up at him head cocked slightly. "No fallins. You an Daddy'd catch me." Holding their hands a bit tighter she looked up to make sure Sultan was safe.   
John smiled. "Papa has a good point. Hold on tight to us, ok. Sultans' tucked safe in my jacket so he won't get hurt."

‘Thank you, darling. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve fallen and hurt myself very badly because I was so impatient to do something that I elected to dismiss those who cared for me. I’m glad you won’t do the same,’ he smiled at her. ‘Sultan would be sad if you hurt yourself,’ he added. ‘Now let’s keep our eyes open in case the shop were difficult to spot,’ he said as they came onto Wigmore Street.

"No fallins down an' makins you an' Daddy sad..." She nodded. John shook his head. "Logic wins out every time. With a touch of sentiment. I think I see the shop just ahead." Opening the door he followed Rosie and Sherlock inside.

‘Clever girl. I knew you’d see sense,’ Sherlock approved as they passed the threshold of the discreet, non-assuming shop. Unlike what Sherlock would have expected, the inside was small and packed with items – not as neatly as he’d imagined for a shop in Mayfair. There were people inside, busy speaking with each other, comparing collars and toys and asking their children their opinion about them. ‘Oh. That’s, er, a large… variety of… stuff. Well. I think we should, er, first go and find the clothing part. There probably will be less people rummaging through everything,’ the words stumbled out of his mouth as he made his way through people and prams.

John gave his hand a squeeze. "Steady on. Just a few people in here. It's fine. It's a nice little shop. We'll get a couple jumpers and some toys. We're doing this for Rosie who's doing it for Sultan. You can do this," he murmured, the pep talk as much for himself as it was for Sherlock.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand back and reduced the distance between them. 'You most certainly can,' he repeated encouragingly, having heard a tremor in John's voice which denoted a state of anxiety. 'Rosie is delighted to have us both here to shop for Sultan,' he continued in a low voice. He perused the jumpers for a few instants before turning to the toys on the opposite aisle. 'I'm utterly out of my depth there,' he admitted.   
'Rosie darling. Have you got an idea of what Sultan would like to play with? Your Daddy could choose a warm jumper for him, too.'

Nodding she smiled. "Somethin' he can chew on an'chase an'makes noise."   
John chuckled. "I think that's almost every toy in here." Carefully setting Sultan by Rosie he kissed her cheek. "You two pick. Papa and I will be right behind you."   
Nodding she took Sultan's leash dashing down the toy aisle.

Sherlock let out a small breath, holding firmly onto John's hand both to comfort him and for his own reassurance. Give them the chasing of a criminal in the busy wide streets of London over a small cramped shop any day. He turned his head towards John, determination on his face. 'Into battle,' he whispered.

John nodded giving Sherlock's hand a squeeze as they followed Rosie. "At least she and Sultan are enjoying themselves. That's what matters."

'Indeed. Hopefully she'll decide quickly. I'm grateful not to have seen - Oh, dear Lord,' he groaned.

'Hello, Sirs, how may I be of assistance to yourselves today?' came the cheerful voice of a young man on their side.

John suppressed supressed a chuckle. He smiled warmly appearing a slightly ruffled and harried parent. "Hello Arthur. Maybe you can help us. Our daughter got a puppy for Christmas. We need to get the little rascal a jumper or two to help him keep warm, some toys, and one of those retractable leashes and a harness so Rosie can manage to walk him a bit easier. We're already running late for a dinner reservation. Could you help us?"

Sherlock smirked discreetly, pleased that his partner had jumped at the opportunity to leave more quickly, occasion which had presented itself in the form of Arthur-the-revoltingly-chirpy shop assistant.   
'Yes, I can definitely help you!' Arthur exclaimed. 'A puppy for Christmas, what a thoughtful gift! What breed is she? Or he,' he amended. 'I'll need to know to give you the right size for everything. Even the toys are specifically designed for some breeds. You won't give something large to a chihuahua,' he chuckled. 'You mentioned jumpers, have you got an idea of the colour you'd like? Yellow, maybe? We've also got a selection of warm jackets, perfect for winter time if your puppy is prone to being sensitive to cold temperatures,' he gestured towards them.

John smiled. "He's some sort of setter spaniel mix. So he'll get decent sized. That's them right there. Rosie, love, bring Sultan over so Arthur can meet him."   
Smiling brightly and very keen to show him off Rosie came over. "Hi. I'm Rosie. This Sultan." She patted Sultan's head lovingly.

'A mix not easy to come by, I'm sure finding pure bred setters makes it all the more hard. Irish setter, huh? Mixed with Spaniel? Very interesting,' he commented. He waved at Rosie 'Hello Rosie it's super to meet you. So, a puppy for Christmas, eh? You must have been over the moon. And what a beautiful boy you have,' he beamed, scratching Sultan behind the ears. 'Hello Sultan.'   
His fists clenched in his pocket, Sherlock exhaled his frustration - not too loudly, he didn't want Rosie to notice just how much he was not in a fit state.   
'Hm, Arthur, I think my partner's mentioned that we were running late so if we could move this faster,' he grumbled, a frown on his face.   
Arthur was blessedly unaware of Sherlock's identity and spared them another excited monologue.

John smiled running a calming hand down Sherlock's back. "He's distracting her from us being uncomfortable with the crowd in here. I'll take it. We can just hang back and let him help her make decisions. He seems to know what he's talking about."   
Rosie beamed at her new friend. "We get jumpers an' toys for him. He sleep in my bed wif me."

Sherlock nodded curtly. 'Fine. I'll try to relax and let this overly cheery man do his job and help Rosie decide on what Sultan needs. But don't think for one second that he's acting on our favour: distracting her is only the result of his never ending speaking. He's clearly not bright enough for noticing anything worthwhile,' he retorted and bit his lips when he realised just how not good and vicious his statement was.   
'In your bed? You lucky gal! I'm sure he takes keeping you safe very seriously, nothing's more important to a dog than the safety of their master, you know,' he replied.   
_And now he's telling her **platitudes** _Sherlock cringed internally.   
'Now, let's see about those accessories. Your Dad told me he also wanted you to be able to walk him so a lead and harness are necessary; you're going to spend even more time with him, isn't it great?' he asked, taking a couple of jumpers from the rack, making sure the size was right. 'What do you think of these?'

Nodding she stroked them lightly. "Soft an' warm, right? Don' want Sultan gettin' sick. Daddy's a people doctor, not an aminal doctor."   
'Yes of course! We don't want him to catch a cold! A doctor, eh? Then you're doubly safe,' he commented. 'Here, these will suit him perfectly, they're warm and comfy, I'm sure he'll like them. Won't you, Sultan?' he patted the sides of the puppy. 'A big boy, is he? He'll grow more that's for sure, but for now he definitely needs these toys,' he continued, showing Rosie rubber toys and hard cloth toys for him to chew on and have fun with. 'I'd recommend against giving him a plushie right now, he's too young and will probably confuse it with a toy to chew on. But when he's older you can definitely think about it.'  
Rosie nodded. "Sultan's a good boy. Don't chew on my toys. Never ever." She patted the puppy proudly.

  
John smiled continuing to rub Sherlock's back. "He's harmless. Seems nice enough. Earnest. I think he likes what he does and likes helping people."

'Earnest. Another word for naïve,' Sherlock huffed. 'Rosie is not "people",' he sulked. 'Is it hot in there?' he wondered aloud, unfastening his scarf and fingering his shirt collar. 'We need to go. If he could hurry up that'd be fantastic.'

"Easy love, easy. Rosie's not people, but she's still only two. I think they're about done. Just have to get the harness and leash." John murmured soothingly.   
  
"Dose good toys." She giggled at Sultan happily chewed on a rope toy.

'Bob's your uncle then, missy! Looks like your boy likes his toys,' he commented enthusiastically. 'Now, harness and lead, innit?' he asked, leading her to the accessories. 'What's your favourite colour? I think you'll do best with that model here, strong enough to hold him and to prevent him from pulling. Yes, you'll do nicely with that model,' he repeated.  
  
'"innit"? _"innit"?_ Next thing we know he'll say something about going down "the apples and pears but don't ya worry about a thing, gov'nor",’ Sherlock seethed between clenched teeth. 'She's evidently enjoying herself but eager to go for a walk with Sultan.' He held John's hand more firmly, unmistakably asking for his lover to be there - and he found that he couldn't care less about them being out in public when he did so. 'John I want to... I need... Air. With you. Tell me they're done, now, please,' he pleaded.

John squeezed his hand tightly. "Almost done. Just have to pay. You go on out, take a breather. Call and ask Angelo to make a request for Rosie-friendly tiramisu. We'll be out in a minute."   
'Yes, I'll er, I'll do that. Just so we can save time, you know I don't want to be without you,' Sherlock replied, squeezing John's hand and retrieving his phone out of his pocket. 'Make it quick, dear,' he added, retreating towards the entrance, once again making his way through people and prams. He took a large breath out as he stepped back onto the street and called up Angel to make a reservation for all three of them and Mrs Hudson. And Sultan, he amended, hearing little Rosie insisting that he'd be counted as a person as well.   
  
Rosie smiled up at Arthur choosing a dark blue lead and matching harness. "Makes Sultan preddy."

'Yes, he's very pretty, eh? You two will have plenty of fun, I'm sure of it!' he exclaimed enthusiastically. 'Sirs? We're all set here,' Arthur called cheerily. 'Your daughter's a charm, very taken with her puppy and already very very invested in his well-being,' he complimented as he made his way to the till. 'Now make sure the little lad has proper exercise everyday, you can tell he's a ball of energy. You got everything you need? Bowls? Comfy basket?' he asked as he scanned the items.   
  


John nodded. "Her grandparents made sure to get him some bowls, food, and a comfortable basket for him to nap in downstairs if he's not cuddled up with Rosie. You've been very helpful, Arthur. I'm sure we'll be back." Taking Rosie's hand and letting her hold Sultan's lead. "Come on, princess, we'll show Papa how nice Sultan looks and what a good job you're doing holding the lead."   
He smiled at Sherlock clearly relieved to be outside. "Suppose Angelo doesn't mind adding a four footed member of the family." Squeezing Rosie's hand he looked down at her. "He'll get Sultan a nice bowl of water and a bone to chew on while we eat."

Sherlock smiled back at John. 'Of course not. He was waiting for it to happen, apparently,' he chuckled. 'You both look so proud,' he addressed Rosie, 'and Sultan looks really nice with this jumper. Are we ready to walk back to Baker Street and take Mrs Hudson with us on our way to Angelo?'

Rosie nodded. "I show Nana how good I walk Sultan."   
John smiled. 'Thankfully someone did a little work with him and he's pretty well leash trained. I'd hate for her to get pulled off balance." He looked up at Sherlock. "Feeling better?"

'I'm sure Nana will be very impressed. You are doing very well, darling,' he praised. 'Now, yes. I do. What about you? Do not pretend you were not affected in there,' he enquired, eyebrow raised.

John nodded. "Small space, lots of people, noisy, yeah. Wasn't ideal. Glad to be out of there and in the fresh air again. At least we had someone helpful that made the process a bit faster."

'Hm. I'm glad you're feeling better,' he replied nodding his head. 'Angelo's delicious food will help settle you more,' he continued. 'Yes, Captain. I will,' he said, replying to John's unsaid comment.

John chuckled squeezing his hand. "It wasn't too bad. Easier since I have you and Rosie there. Thank God for online shopping. Made getting Christmas presents bearable. Didn't have to fight the crowds too much."   
Rosie walked along holding on to Sherlock's hand and Sultan's leash firmly. "Papa, I hungy."

'Yes darling, I expect you _are_. You're going to build up quite an appetite walking Sultan all the way to Angelo's,' he teased. 'We're only walking home before getting a cab there. I doubt Mrs Hudson would want to walk. You'll have delicious food soon, I promise,' he added.   
'For crying out loud...' he whispered when he saw the firm gaze of her eyes. 'Yes, I will, mini Captain,' he huffed.

John snickered beside him. "Papa _always_ eats when we go to Angelo's. Well there was _one_ time when he didn't eat, but that was because it was a very important case."   
Rosie nodded with a smile. "The pink lady one, right Daddy?"   
John smiled. "That's right. Very good sweetheart."

'And an important day, as well,' he commented. 'Although I didn't have any idea at the time,' he added. 'Angelo is a fantastic cook - and apparently a seer,' he chuckled.

"Angelo, Mrs, Hudson, Mike, Greg, your brother. I think we were the last two to see it." John shook his head with a smile. "It's the _only_ time Papa didn't eat when we were at Angelo's. Usually he eats a lot, especially for him. And gets dessert on top of it."

'I think you're probably right,' Sherlock replied. 'It was the one and only time I didn't eat when there, but it also was the one and only time your Daddy corrected him on the status of our - Not good?' he suddenly asked.

John chuckled. "We'd only just met. I didn't want anyone getting crazy ideas. Water under the bridge. I'm more than willing to admit I was wrong. It was a date. And tonight's a date too. All special occasion, and even ordinary days, deserve to be celebrated at Angelo's."

'And after that heartfelt statement, I find myself to be quite hungry as well. It is rather a special occasion, I agree. One I hope we'll keep on celebrating after dinner,' he added, dropping his voice so only John heard the rumble of his voice.

"Oh you can bet on it." John smirked. "All this walking and running about will have someone ready for bed by the time we get back. We'll have all night."   
Rosie bounced up the front steps pushing open the door and hurrying to show Nana how big she was, walking Sultan all by herself.   
  
  


'My, my, Rosie how grown up you are! Such a big girl, walking Sultan all by yourself!' she exclaimed, doting. 'Now, let me call up a taxi,' she said tapping her hip. 'Come in and make yourselves comfortable. ‘Not _too_ comfortable,' she added, picking on Sherlock and John's obvious want and pull, attraction towards each other.

Sherlock hummed his enthusiasm at John's promise. 'Can we skip dinner and go straight to bed?'

John chuckled. "Mm and deprive Mrs Hudson and Angelo of a celebratory toast to them having this all figured out before we did? They'd never forgive us. We'll just have to wait. See, she's onto us," he shook his head with a smile.

'Well they'd guessed it early. We could celebrate that another time. Or could have,' he amended. 'I'll just... Follow your orders, Captain,' he sighed.

"Smart idea." He kissed Sherlock's cheek. "We'll have plenty of reasons to celebrate things. Any excuse for a celebration, really." He smirked with a wink.

'I am smart,' Sherlock replied, his cheeks slightly colouring.

Rosie giggled taking some of Sultan's toys and playing tug o' war with him while they waited for the taxi.

'Now boys, I know that Angelo's not far from here at all and that you usually go there on foot but I really don't feel up to it. With the cold my hip's acting up. Tell me, Rosie, did your dads behave when you were out? But I can see with all these toys that they did make sure you and Sultan enjoyed your time. I really would hate to hear that they'd focus less on you because they've at long last decided to see the truth of what I've been telling them for 8 years.'   
Rosie blinked up at Mrs. Hudson, head cocked. "We wented to the park an' me an' Sultan played an' then we gotted me a new scarf an' gloves an' Papa got Daddy a new scarf an' then we wented to the pet store an' got Sultan toys an' jumpers."   
  
John looked a bit sheepish. "Now Mrs. Hudson you know we'd never neglect Rosie for anything. Never."   
Mrs Hudson looked at the two men, her judgemental look turned into something more apologetic. 'Oh, I've been there dear. I know how you can easily get... Distracted and focussed on something exciting. Just a bit of warning, that's all. Don't you worry, it's a natural reaction. Only thought you should be made aware of it. Before you go and neglect her and start feeling bad about having thought of your couple. She does seem to have had a nice afternoon,' she added, appreciating the array of toys in front of Rosie and her pink cheeks. 'Now that's very nice of you Sherlock to treat Rosie and John like that. Nothing is too good for them,' she approved nodding her head. 'Very nice of your Papa to do that,' she repeated.   
John smiled. "I've been much better about not neglecting anything to do with Rosie since we moved back. It was very difficult for a while there. We didn't quite know what to do with ourselves. We're both doing much better now that we're where we belong."

Mrs Hudson nodded. 'Then you know you have to stay here. Just keep in mind what I told you, John. You look so happy, all three of you. Now, is that taxi coming or not?' she wondered, her eyes darting to the clock on the wall.

Rosie smiled up at her arms locked tightly around Sherlock's legs. "Papa love me an' Daddy an' Sultan an' Nana an' Uncle Greg an' Uncle Mycroft.’

'I am not about to deny your wisdom, Rosie. I do love you very much,' Sherlock assured her, placing a loving hand on her head.   
Rosie smiled up at Sherlock hugging his legs tighter. "Love Papa lots an' lots."

‘Daddy's scarf soft an' warm. Daddy put Sultan in his jacket an' the lady at th' store thought it was cute." She giggled.

'As long as she didn't think you were cute and therefore was interested in you,' Sherlock growled lowly, addressing John. 'No one can pretend to try to catch your attention, not without having to deal with me first,' he added possessiveness in his tone as well as his words.  
John laughed softly ears going a bit pink. "She was being polite. She wasn't being too flirty. I think we made it pretty clear we were together. Same goes for you. I'd rather neither of us have to flirt to get information." He shrugged. "I know it may happen from time to time but that doesn't mean I have to like it."  
'I don't do that,' Sherlock protested. 'Not much and certainly not anymore,' he amended at John's incredulous look.   
'Now, now, boys, having a small domestic over that, already? The two of you should know by now that nobody is going to take one from the other - and nobody with a hint of a brain would even try,' she lectured softly as one would an overreacting teenager.

Glancing outside John scooped Rosie up. "There's the cab. We need to get you and Sultan bundled back up and inside."   
'Ah, good. Let me put my coat on and grab my handbag I'll be right behind you.'

'A cab, and Angelo's. This sounds suspiciously too similar to our first date. I'm going with you to make sure that this cabbie is not... What?'   
  


John bounced Rosie kissing her cheek. "A good memory though. Not many people have an exciting first meeting story like we do." He smiled at Sherlock. "Seems right, going back to where it all started for us. Let's hope tonight's less eventful."


	3. Back to the Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at Angelo's, sex, and a phone call.

As the taxi was leaving, Sherlock contemplated the front window of Angelo’s and memories of long ago resurfaced. It seemed a lifetime had passed since he and John had met and moved in together and that a deep friendship had grown between them. Sherlock had revisited the memory of their first dining out together many times, imagining what – or rather _how _things would have developed had he not shut John down then. John might not have denied his attraction in the first place and Sherlock might have become more attuned to his feelings more quickly. Of course John would have been utterly shattered by Sherlock’s so-called death but would have forgiven him – eventually. If there was one thing that he’d learnt about feelings is that Love is the strongest and the most powerful of them all.  
He took John’s hand in his and offered him a soft, loving smile.  
  
‘Well, what are you waiting for? It’s freezing out there,’ Mrs Hudson complained, ushering Rosie inside.

John squeezed his hand nuzzling his cheek gently. "I'm thinking the same thing you are, I bet. It's nice to come back somewhere special that holds a lot of good memories. Coming Mrs Hudson." He chuckled following her and Rosie in. Of course their table was waiting for them. With a candle to make it more romantic, of course. Or as romantic as an evening with a toddler, a puppy, and your landlady could be anyway.

‘Yes, I should think you are,’ Sherlock replied softly. ‘I did ask him for our table. It seemed only logical as we’re a larger party than usual. I didn’t mention that he get us a candle, I was certain he would think about it himself – as he always does,’ he chuckled. ‘Hello Billy,’ he greeted the waiter who was standing near the door.

‘I imagine we’re sitting here?’ Mrs Hudson wondered, gesturing to the table at the forefront of the restaurant, facing the window.

Rosie climbed into her seat patting the spot next to her and giggling when Sultan took his place beside her.   
John laughed. "Rosie, love, not sure that we should have Sultan actually _at_ the table. Angelo will bring him some water and something to eat."   
Crossing her arms in a pout worth of one of Sherlock's epic sulks she glared at John. "Sultan no sit, I no eat."   
‘Now Rosie, are you sure it’s his place? Can’t be very comfortable, can he? Sitting like that. Oh, I’m sure he likes being next to you, I just think he’d appreciate more being on the floor,’ Mrs Hudson tried to reason her, sitting across from her.  
Sherlock looked at Rosie sternly. ‘If you don’t want to eat, be my guest. But I know how much you love tiramisu and I don’t see why you should have any if you refuse to eat. And don’t pretend not to understand what I’m saying, Rosie,’ he said with finality, waiting for her to gesture Sultan down before taking his place.

Rosie huffed lower lip threatening to wobble. John smiled. "See he's perfectly happy down there. He's settled on the end of Papa's coat and is very comfortable. We're lucky that Angelo's a friend and let Sultan in at all. Most places don't let animals in much less at the table. You can reach down and pet him whenever you want."

‘Your Daddy’s right. Has to do with hygiene and it goes for all animals, no matter how well-behaved they are,’ Mrs Hudson added wisely.

Sherlock nodded at Rosie. ‘I know you can be a mature young girl when you want to, darling. There’s absolutely no reason to threaten to cry. Sultan is _allowed_ in the restaurant and perfectly well where he is. As your Daddy said, you can pet him whenever you want. Can I get a smile instead of a teary pout?’ he asked, his tone softer.

She sighed reaching down to pet Sultan. "But Sultan clean."   
John nodded hugging her. "Yes he is but if he were up here he might eat something that's ok for people, but might make him sick. And he's little so it could make him very sick and he'd have to go to the vet to get better. If he's down there he can't get anything that's bad for him."   
Nodding slightly she leaned into Sherlock pout fading.

‘That’s more like it,’ Sherlock commented approvingly.   
‘Never thought I’d see the day to see you lecture on eating habits, hygiene at the table and tantrums,’ Mrs Hudson chuckled. ‘Now why didn’t either of you ever take me here? It’s lovely!’ she exclaimed.  
‘Sherlock! Hello! Merry Christmas!’  
‘Good evening, Angelo,’ he smiled.  
‘Dinner party, eh? Got something to announce? Who’s the lovely little girl?’ he asked enthusiastically.

John smiled at Angelo. "Lovely to be here again. This is Rosie. She's our daughter. Down there's Sultan who she just got for Christmas and this is Mrs. Hudson."   
‘..._whom_,’ Sherlock corrected in a whisper.  
Rosie smiled nibbling on a bread stick. "Hi. Daddy an' Papa talk about you lots!"

‘Daddy and Papa, eh? They’ve understood at last, then. I’m really glad. Took you long enough but in the end...’  
‘Yes, John and I are together and you were right from the very beginning, Angelo.’  
‘So was I,’ Mrs Hudson protested.  
‘Apparently everyone around us had come to that conclusion,’ Sherlock retorted, offended.  
‘Maybe you should have listened then. And a daughter, too. I couldn’t be more happy for you.’  
‘Oh, Angelo… _happier_,’ Sherlock corrected in a sigh.  
‘I know. This official then?’  
‘He has a point, you haven’t said anything,’ Mrs Hudson continued, suspicion in her voice.

John smiled chuckling. "Let's just get through the holidays and I'll get back to more regular hours at the clinic and we'll see about all that. You were both right and we were blind for not seeing it, or rather ignoring it. I've been raving about the food here to Rosie since she was a tiny little thing." Smiling he gave Sherlock's knee a squeeze under the table.

Sherlock’s eyes closed briefly, his hand coming onto John’s. ‘John… I think it was a trick question,’ he shook his head, pleased but dazed by John’s confession of the possibility. ‘Why tell everyone when you’ve all known even before us?’ he asked defensively. ‘No, it’s not “official”.’  
‘Oh, Sherlock, don’t be like that. He’s in a strop because he’s hungry, I’m sure.’  
‘Now I can work with that you know it, Sherlock. A large plate of lasagna for Sherlock – and Rosie, she looks like she’ll have that tonight.’  
‘Well then I’ll be having a mushroom risotto. John’s been going on and on about “Angelo’s food” for years, something tells me everything on the menu is delicious.’  
‘And cooked myself for Sherlock’s family,’ he agreed.  
‘Thank you, Angelo. Can you bring a bowl of water and something to eat for Sultan?’  
‘Of course. I’ll have Billy take care of you,’ he said in a cheery voice, whistling as he disappeared at the back of the restaurant to the kitchen.

John chuckled. "Everything's good. But his lasagna is the best I've ever had. We had to come here to celebrate. It just didn't seem right to go anywhere else."

‘And what a wonderful idea you had. Of course you had to celebrate!’ Mrs Hudson exclaimed. ‘Not to mention it’s probably the one place where Sherlock doesn’t object to eating,’ Mrs Hudson teased.  
‘Sherlock is sitting right here, Mrs Hudson,’ he huffed. ‘I resent the implication. I do eat regularly, you know. Well, I do _now_,’ he amended.  
‘Oh Sherlock, dear, I was just teasing.’  
‘But you are right. I _really_ don’t object eating here. So John obviously enjoys taking me here on a fairly regular basis,’ he smiled. ‘It was obvious that we’d come here to celebrate so many important changes in our lives,’ he squeezed John’s hand and locked eyes with him as his feet brushed against John’s ankle.   
John smiled at him. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you and Rosie. Along with Sultan and Mrs Hudson. No better place to be with family than right here. And you do eat better when we're here. Even on your pickiest of days I know I can get you to eat something Angelo's made. Even if you've refused all other food for days."   
‘That barely ever happens anymore,’ Sherlock protested. ‘John told me several months ago “It’s important to have healthy, regular eating habits. If not for you, for Rosie”, and I must admit that parenthood is an excellent incentive to behave better,’ he declared putting his arm around her. ‘Isn’t that right, darling? Both my darlings,’ he corrected as Mrs Hudson clasped her hands over her chest – so rare it was for her to hear and see Sherlock be so affectionate and loving in public.

John smiled leaning towards Sherlock. "Exactly right. She won't eat if he doesn't. I didn't want her to pick up the habit of not eating. It's been good for both of them. Sherlock's put on some weight since we moved in and he's eating regularly."   
Rosie smiled up at Sherlock. "Papa always behave."   
John snorted, laughing. "Well he tries."   
‘Don’t correct your daughter when she’s praising my character, John,’ Sherlock complained half-heartedly.  
John laughed nudging Sherlock's foot with his own. "_Our_ daughter," he corrected with a warm smile watching Rosie's eyes go wide as the plate was put in front of her. "Cheesy!" She giggled getting a bit of sauce on her chin with the first bite."   
‘I hope you’re feeling hungry, Sherlock,’ Angelo said as he put a large, overflowing plate in front of him and a smaller one in front of Rosie.   
‘Now you see why I’ve taken weight,’ he chuckled, fidgeting with his fork, impatient to start eating.  
‘Our daughter,’ Sherlock repeated. ‘Our daughter should wait a little before she starts on eating,’ he continued, blowing on her plate, laughing softly with her.   
‘And there you go, John, Mrs Hudson,’ Angelo announced, deposing their generously laden plates in front of them, firmly embracing Sherlock with one arm. ‘Anything for Sherlock’s family,’ he boomed. ‘And more because it’s a special occasion,’ he winked at John and Sherlock, pride in his voice. ‘Ooh, Billy’s given you water I can see but special occasion calls for a special drink, eh?’  
‘I like the way you think, young man,’ replied Mrs Hudson, grinning.   
‘I’ll bring a bottle of red wine for the three of you,’ he winked again.  
‘Only just the one, the boys are such lightweights...’  
‘Not with wine, Mrs Hudson,’ Sherlock retorted. ‘Just one bottle, Angelo please,’ he confirmed after throwing a glance at John.

John nodded. "I think one bottle between the three of us is fine. And some sparkling juice for Rosie, please." He smiled softly watching Sherlock help Rosie blow on her food to cool it. Fatherhood and responsibility suited him. He excelled at it like he did with everything he put his mind to.   
‘Christmas has treated you right, it seems,’ Mrs Hudson commented.  
Sherlock decided that no one needed to know the family drama that occurred – at that very moment. He’d probably share the fear that stemmed from Rosie’s fever later on, however.  
‘As you can see it did, yes,’ he agreed, gesturing towards Sultan. ‘John had paperwork drawn.’  
Mrs Hudson looked at both of them, confusion on her face. ‘I thought your relationship wasn’t official?’ she asked as Angelo came back with wine and sparkling juice. He stopped near the table, listening intently.  
John gave a slight shrug. "Sherlock is on all of the paperwork as Rosie's guardian and father. Sherlock and I have sorted things out. More or less. We were a couple all along and didn't know it." Smiling he laid his hand over Sherlock's. "Guess that makes us pretty official."

‘Congratulations! Oh, I’m so happy for both of you! Well, all three of you, really,’ Mrs Hudson exclaimed. ‘I’ve been telling you for ages,’ she grinned. ‘She’s got both your names, then? How does that work?’  
Sherlock smiled and squeezed John’s hand. ‘I now have a new understanding of the feelings of joy Christmas has the reputation to bring.’  
‘Ah, I knew you’d get there eventually,’ Angelo smiled knowingly.

John smiled. "She doesn't have both our names yet. But that's coming. I didn't want to ask Mycroft for too many favours I'd have to repay." He laughed stroking Sherlock's hand with his thumb. "Same here. Christmas has been a bit brighter this year."   
Rosie sipped her juice carefully, giggling. "Papa! Bubbles get my nose."

‘Bubbles get _in _your nose, darling,’ he chuckled. ‘Bubbles are what makes your drink special,’ he explained. ‘Do you like it?’   
Rosie giggled. "Tickles. It's yummy. Get bubble juice at home?" She looked up at Sherlock who turned towards John, eyes narrowed. ‘What is coming, exactly?’  
‘Sherlock, surely you’re not so… blind?’ Mrs Hudson wondered.  
John laughed shaking his head. "Adding your name to Rosie's. Which we already talked about. The rest, we'll talk about soon enough."   
Sherlock looked confused. ‘The rest…?’ Then turning to Rosie he replied in an almost dismissive way ‘Yes, if you like it, why not. Has to stay a drink for special occasions, though.’ There was a slight pause, then he repeated in a low, timid, almost scared voice ‘The rest…?’  
John squeezed his hand stroking it with his thumb. "Deep breath. It's ok. Nothing terrible. I promise. Remember, Rosie and I aren't going anywhere. Promise."   
Sherlock nodded. Why couldn’t he simply enjoy the evening? The company? Their outing as a family was one of celebration. He sighed softly, slowly retrieving his hand from underneath John’s and stood up. ‘Excuse me,’ he breathed, turning towards the restrooms.  
‘Sherlock?’ Mrs Hudson asked in a concerned voice.  
‘Ah, I’m going to go to the kitchen. See if they need help. Do you need anything?’ awkwardness in his voice, Angelo balanced on his feet.   
John sighed. "Give him a bit. All this has been a bit overwhelming. He can't see the last piece and it's worrying him. He'll likely be back in a bit."   
Rosie watched worriedly. "Where Papa go?"   
  


Closing the bathroom door behind him, Sherlock heaved a sigh, made his way to the washbasins and sprayed water on his face as best he could. Head hung low, he clutched the enamel of the sink with both hands and drew deep breaths in. A few tears escaped his eyes and breathed deeply again. As he looked up in the mirror, he could see his face slightly ashen and damp, his hair falling in front of his eyes, the faint scar on the inside of his left eyebrow. _Why am I even thinking of… No, happy. Tonight’s about family. Celebration. The rest... What did John mean by “the rest”? He was speaking about Rosie having both our names. We already are her parents, biologically. On paper I’m only her guard- Oh. _He closed his eyes, trying to calm the fast rhythm of his heart. Something was coursing through his veins, something he couldn’t identify. He thought of John, visualising him in his mind’s eye, the soft, warm smile he gave him dancing on his lips. Everything fell into place. _Elation._  
He dried his face and made his way back to his family, a reassured look and a small smile on his face. His smile grew wider and he nodded as he looked to John.  
‘Are you feeling better, Sherlock?’  
‘”Better” doesn’t cover it, Mrs Hudson,’ he replied warmly, taking a sip of his wine after he’d taken John’s hand in his, refusing to break eye contact.  
Rosie smiled brightly deciding Sherlock's lap was a much better place to sit than her own chair. Leaning back against him she tipped her head back smiling at him. "Hi Papa. Where you go?"   
John squeezed his hand gently relieved to see Sherlock looking better. He'd been a bit worried about him. Trust Rosie to make it better.   
He pressed John’s hand and looked at Rosie, a large smile on his face. He had decided that he would not tell Rosie precisely what happened – neither would he lie to her: she would deduce it. He chose to keep his explanation simple and brief.  
‘Hi, darling. Papa was not feeling well and went to the bathroom. Now I’m much better,’ he grinned before bending down to kiss her cheek and passing his free arm around her to tickle her. There was no way he’d let go of John or not touch him in any kind of manner.  
‘I’m hungry!’ he exclaimed making pretend noises as though he were going to eat Rosie.  
‘Yes, I can see that “better” is not strong enough,’ Mrs Hudson said, her eyes crinkling, relief written on her face.

John smiled clearly relieved to see Sherlock was feeling better. Stroking his hand he smiled at him watching Sherlock fuss over Rosie who was squealing with delight. "Eat 'sangna Papa! No eat me!"   
‘What did you say? “Don’t eat me”? No? Try again, then,’ and he continued mock-eating her.  
Mrs Hudson was watching them with a doting look on her face. The closed-off, broken boy and self-professed sociopath who’d rented her flat all those years ago had grown into a happy man. A happy _family _man.  
Rosie squealed with delight wiggling in Sherlock's lap. "No Papa!! No eat Rosie!! Eat 'sagna!!"   
John laughed watching them with a loving smile. "I don't know, Papa's _very_ hungry!!"   
‘Yes, I am,’ Sherlock agreed. ‘I’ll eat you _and_ the lasagna!’  
Mrs Hudson shook her head. ‘Sherlock dear, as much as I love seeing you happy and enjoying the moment, maybe we could get back to actually eating?’  
Rosie giggled snuggled into Sherlock. "Yeah Papa, eat 'sagna not me!!! 'sagna good."   
John smiled at them. "You two better eat your lasagna before I decide to! No sense letting it go to waste."   
'Oh, such a spoilsport,' Sherlock replied, letting go of Rosie. 'I think we'd better eat. Your captain of a Dad would be cross with me, otherwise,' he sighed dramatically.

John smirked. "Oh yes, I'm a terrible ogre wanting you two nice and full and happy. _So_ terrible."   
Rosie smiled feeding Sherlock a bite of lasagna. "Yum!!"

Sherlock hummed appreciatively, the lasagna really was delicious. 'Best Angelo's made,' he declared, mouth still half full.   
'Sherlock, dear... You're not going to teach bad manners to your daughter, are you? He was doing so well,' she complained to John.   
Sherlock swallowed and shook his head. 'Not planning on that, Mrs Hudson. Dinner is not going to fill me up,' he added, whispering to John.

John smirked. "Damn right. And she's very good at making him mind his manners. He's very good at reminding her to say please and thank you. They do very well together."

'As you can hear, John is terrific at teaching her appropriate vocabulary,' he replied irony in his tone before sticking the tip of his tongue to John, after having made certain Rosie wouldn't catch that.

John laughed running his foot along Sherlock's leg under the table. If Sherlock was going to tease then so was he. Two could play at this game. Rosie laughed taking a bite before feeding Sherlock another bite.

Mrs Hudson shook her head, watching the happy family of three she was having dinner with and resumed eating the delicious risotto she'd ordered.   
'I think you should eat too, young lady,' Sherlock said 'You need to finish your plate, too, if you're to have dessert,' he explained before turning to John and raising an eyebrow, smirking slightly.

John chuckled. "Papa's right. Clean plate or no dessert. And I know you want some tiramisu." John slid his foot along Sherlock's leg slowly. "We're just going to enjoy our meal and some dessert before we head home for the evening."

'Well, I'm sure she'll finish it, the food is scrumptious. Your parents are right, Rosie,' Mrs Hudson concurred. 'And after dessert you'll come with me and have a nice hot chocolate to relax from all the emotions you've had at dinner. Being eaten, what a scare you must have had,' she chuckled.  
'Oh, don't give me that look, Sherlock, I know that look. I wasn't born yesterday.'  
Sherlock pressed John's hand more firmly, his fingers dropping on his wrist. 'Elevated,' he commented and proceeded to reciprocate John's attentions.

John smiled. "Really, Mrs Hudson you don't have to do that. We'll get her a bath and tucked into bed with Sultan and read them a story or two. It's been a wonderful evening here with the people I love the most."

'No, you're right, John, I don't _have_ to do that, I _want_ to. A wonderful evening which I'm sure you'll want to turn into a beautiful night with your man,' she winked.   
Sherlock's foot went up John's thigh, light as a feather. He'd taken his shoe off and was evidently enjoying the effect his teasing was having on John.

John cleared his throat shifting slightly in his seat and glancing over at Sherlock. "We appreciate it. A lot. And I'm sure Rosie and Sultan will have a wonderful time with you. They'll be good as gold. Or at least I hope so." He smiled at Rosie. "How does that sound? You and Sultan spending the night with Nana? I'm sure you'll stay up late and have hot chocolate."   
Rosie nodded eagerly. "Yes! Me an' Sultan stay with Nana."

'Well then. It is decided,' she smiled. 'Of course you'll have hot chocolate just as long as you're careful Sultan doesn't put his nose in it. You know chocolate would make him very sick, don't you? He'll have milk, if I can find the proper one.'  
Sherlock smirked, his thumb stroking the back of John's hand just as he slid his foot down his leg, and up again, his silk socked foot brushing against John's skin.

"Or water. Water would be just fine," John insisted looking a bit flushed. "No need to go out of your way. And she's right, Rosie. Chocolate is very bad for dogs."   
She nodded. "I 'member. Chocwate not good for doggies."

'If I can find that milk, I don't see why I shouldn't. Are you alright, John? You look a bit... Running a fever? Oh, that wouldn't be so surprising, with the snow there's been in London I'm sure it was worse down at Sherlock's parents. Always worse in the countryside. All the more reason Rosie and Sultan stay with me - you'll need rest and your man to take care of you.'   
'I'll take good care of you, John. I won't let you go out of bed until you're feeling better,' he promised, a concerned tone to his low voice, carrying on teasing John with his shoeless foot under the table.

"Rosie was a bit under the weather the other day. She seems to be fine now. I might have caught a bit of it... I'm feeling more than all right..." He gave Sherlock a look promising that he wouldn't be getting out of bed for some time either. "It's very nice of you to take them. At least for tonight. I know they'll enjoy themselves."

'Of course, they will. You know you can count on me, John. I'm Rosie's Godmother, after all. Under the weather? You have to be attentive with young children being sick, it's good you told me that, I'll be extra attentive.'   
'So, everything alright? Do you want to wait a bit before I bring you tiramisu...?'   
Sherlock cleared his throat 'Of course everything' s alright, Angelo, I think the state of our licked- clean plates is a fairly good indication,' he replied. 'Thank you,' he added to cover for the fact his words had not been exactly nice. 'You should ask Rosie but I think everyone's ready to have dessert,' he chuckled. _I know I am_ he thought, dropping his foot on the floor and promptly placing the other on John's ankle, lightly caressing it.

John smiled. "She's much better now. A good night's sleep and a good nap on the train did her a world of good. Seems to have just been a bit of a bug that she shook off quickly. But thank you for being extra vigilant."   
Rosie smiled brightly. "Tirmasoo please! Ated all my 'sagna. Papa ate too." She nodded.   
'Tiramisu coming right up then, Miss Rosie,' Angelo chuckled. 'You can be proud of yourself, it was a big plate,' he commented.   
'It's been ages since I ate proper tiramisu. I'm actually excited,' Mrs Hudson exclaimed.   
'Are you sure you need it to have caffeine? You could always have a...'   
'Virgin tiramisu, Sherlock? No, I don't think so,' she shook her head.   
'You should consider it, Angelo's coffee is quite strong. You probably won't sleep much.'   
Mrs Hudson pondered the question for a minute and conceded that Sherlock had a point. He smirked.   
John chuckled shaking his head. "We'll get you something very nice for being so wonderful to watch Rosie and Sultan tonight. You more than deserve it. Not just for that, but for everything you've done for us over the years. Not least of all calling Mycroft a reptile." He smirked raising his glass to her. "Not sure I've ever given you proper credit for that one."   
'Did you? I was not aware of that feat. You deserve to be acclaimed, indeed,' Sherlock approved wholeheartedly.   
'I thought your relationship with your brother would grow closer, after the paperwork he's done for you and John,' Mrs Hudson commented chuckling. 'He did deserve it though. Family's all we have in the end,' she concluded wisely, raising her glass to Sherlock and John. 'Cherish it and take care of it.'   
'Ooh, what are you toasting to, now? Here's the tiramisu for my favourite people,' Angelo declared, putting large pieces of it in front of everyone.

John smiled. "They're working on improving things. There's a ways to go but it's a start." He raised his glass. "To the best family any man could have."   
Not paying much attention to the toast Rosie took a large bite of tiramisu. Eyes wide she tugged on Sherlock's sleeve. "Papa!! Yummy!!!"   
‘I’m sure it is, Rosie,’ Sherlock chuckled. ‘Don’t you want to toast like a grown-up to our wonderful family?’ he asked raising his own glass. Rosie blinked up at him looking at the table. "No toast Papa. Teerymissu." Grownups were so strange. Why talk about toast when there wasn't any toast around?  
‘Having a toast means celebrating by raising your glass, darling. The wording is confusing, I know.’   
Scrunching her nose Rosie huffed. "Grownups weird. Too confusins."   
John smiled reaching over to tickle her. "I know we are but that doesn't mean we love you any less."   
‘Oh, that’s a perfect toast, that is. A perfect toast for a perfect family,’ Angelo approved, nodding enthusiastically.   
Sherlock took a bite of his dessert. ‘Angelo you’ve outdone yourself! It’s even better than the delicious one you usually make,’ he complimented.  
‘Well after such praise I think we’d better dig in,’ Mrs Hudson remarked after drinking from her glass.  
John smiled. "This really is wonderful. I agree with Sherlock, it's the best you've ever made. I think we'll have to take a few servings to go so we can have some more later. If it lasts the night." He chuckled.   
‘Thank you, thank you. I’m glad you’re enjoying it so much. I’ll go to the kitchen, prepare you a box with the servings that are left.’  
‘It’ll help keeping your strength up during the night,’ Sherlock added in a whisper. John looked over him with a sly wink, a smirk on his lips.

  
‘Thank you, Angelo. It was delicious as always and the tiramisu…’  
‘It really was a lovely dinner, thank you for asking me to come along.’  
‘Your usual discount applies, Sherlock,’ Angelo reminded him warmly. ‘Everything you want, free, for you and your family.’  
Rosie smiled up at Angelo holding her arms up. "Up! Hug!"   
John laughed. "I think you have another lifelong customer, Angelo. She ate up every bite."   
Rosie nodded. "Yum! We have 'sagna again 'morrow Papa?"   
‘Ah, come here little one,’ Angelo bent down to take her in his arms. ‘Looks like you enjoyed your dinner,’ he chuckled.   
‘Remember, Rosie. Diversity. Although I don’t see why not…’ He looked up and met John’s eyes. ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t enjoy the food you like – _but_ you most certainly should not indulge too frequently. You could very well stop enjoying it altogether.’  
‘Oh, Sherlock. Wasn’t that a bit long and complicated? I know she’s brilliant but she’s only two.’  
John chuckled. "Maybe not tomorrow night but soon. I promise. I know you and Sultan both enjoyed it." Rosie nodded. That was ok. Since he'd promised they'd come back it was ok. She hugged Angelo warmly. "Fank you! Food very good!"   
‘I’m really pleased you enjoyed it,’ Angelo chuckled. ‘I’ll see you very soon, then?’ he asked putting her back on the floor.  
‘It would be preposterous to assume the contrary, Angelo,’ Sherlock replied in a light, mocking tone, extending his hand towards Rosie.   
‘Well then, I’ll keep an eye open,’ he chuckled, shaking his head softly.  
‘I’ll probably come back as well, some time,’ Mrs Hudson added. ‘Dinner was really delicious. Thank you,’ she said making her way towards the entrance.  
‘Oh don’t worry about getting a taxi, Mrs Hudson. There still are a lot around here at this time,’ Sherlock assured her when he saw her hesitating to open the door. ‘Good night, Angelo.’  
"Sherlock and his magical ability to summon a cab at any time." John shook his head with a smile. Picking Sultan up he scratched his ears. "And some little pup has a full belly too." Leaning into Sherlock, Rosie hid a yawn watching a few snowflakes float in the air.   
Sherlock put an arm around Rosie, pulling her close. ‘You don’t need to hide, darling,’ he said softly.  
‘Not at all, Rosie. You’ll still have hot chocolate while I have my herbal tea,’ she reassured her. ‘Herbal _tea_,’ she repeated as she saw Sherlock raise his eyebrow. ‘I’m not going to have an herbal _soother_ even if my hip is atrocious. Certainly not when minding Rosie,’ she protested.  
‘A very commendable resolution, Mrs Hudson,’ he approved. ‘Let’s get home, shall we?’ he asked as a cab pulled to the kerb.  
John helped Mrs. Hudson in the cab settling by Sherlock and Rosie. "You'll have a warm bath and hot chocolate, get in your warm pyjamas, Nana will tell you a story and you and Sultan will be off to dreamland." Squeezing Sherlock's hand he smiled at him.   
‘Yes, darling. Bee and Otter and Hedgie will come with you. I’ll get them to you,’ he promised as he returned John’s gentle pressure on his hand. ‘221b Baker Street, please.’  
Nodding she snuggled into him reaching over to pet Sultan. "And your favourite blanket." John added watching her. "You've had a lot of excitement the last few days. You and Sultan will sleep well tonight. And I bet Mrs. Hudson will make you a wonderful breakfast in the morning."  
‘Of course I will. I’ll make your favourite – strangely enough the same as Sherlock’s when he decides to have some. Which is much more frequent, now,’ she added belatedly realising that it could be a sensitive subject – and would have been one had Rosie not been half asleep already.  
John chuckled. "She makes sure he has breakfast and reminds him it's the most important meal of the day. He'll at least have a couple pieces of toast and some tea after she scolds him." Leaning into Sherlock he nuzzled his jaw lightly.   
  


Sighing softly, Sherlock pressed his body closer to John’s and closed his eyes. The ride in the taxi would be short but he felt tired and content enough to rest between Soho and Baker Street. Besides, John and he had a celebratory night ahead of them and he fully intended to make the most of it.  
‘Looks like Rosie’s sleepiness is contagious,’ Mrs Hudson chuckled, lowering her voice.  
John smiled softly. "Seems it is. We really do appreciate you taking them for the night. She's excited for it. It's a real treat." Smiling at Sherlock he pressed a kiss to his temple.   
‘Think nothing of it, John. It’s my pleasure, you know I enjoy having her around,’ she replied warmly, looking at the pretty picture Rosie and Sherlock offered. God knew he’d gone through dark moments when John was engaged and married to Mary and then sometime after she’d died. She’d never imagined when she’d first Mary that the woman would be such a toxic person for John and everyone around her. She was glad that John had managed to move on – or rather, go back to the person he should have been with all along. The both of them looked as if they couldn’t be happier.  
The taxi came to a halt. ‘There you are. £8, please.’  
‘Oh, don’t worry about it, John, wake your darlings, I’ll take care of that.’  
"You're a gem, Mrs. Hudson." He smiled nudging Sherlock gently. "Sherlock, love, we're home. Best carry Rosie inside and just tuck her into bed. I've got Sultan."   
‘I know, dear. I’ll get her plushes and her blanket once I’ve tucked her in,’ he replied, gathering her in his arms and opening the door to the building.  
‘Well let me through dear, got to open the door.’  
‘Of course, Mrs Hudson. Thank you again. Even if I’m sure John’s not ceased to repeat it, I feel...’  
‘Let it go, Sherlock dear. I’m more than happy to have her around and, well. The two of you need some alone time,’ she winked in the dimly lit room as Sherlock went to the guest room and carefully put Rosie to bed.  
‘I won’t be a minute,’ he said, walking back to the stairs and up into Rosie’s room. He dropped a kiss on her forehead as he placed her stuffed animals next to her. ‘Sleep well, Sleepyhead.’  
John smiled tucking her in and watching Sultan snuggle up to her. "Sweet dreams you two." Slipping his arm around Sherlock he smiled. "She looks like you when she sleeps."   
‘Mh, but she’s got so many expressions that only you could have given her. The one you have when you’re pondering whether to take strawberry or raspberry jam, for example,’ he replied fondly. ‘I still have trouble processing the information. I’ve understood it and I’m over the moon - you’ll have to help me ride this,’ he added whispering in John’s ear, his voice dropping a tone lower.  
"Oh I'll help you ride anything you want, love." He smirked. "You know I will always love you and want you in our lives. I don't care if it's formal in any sort of way, so long as we're together."   
‘I do. We should… go home,’ he replied, his voice catching on the excitement that coursed through his body.  
"Where we belong. Together." He kissed his cheek squeezing his hand. "God I love you…"  
Sherlock squeezed John’s hand in return and led him out of Mrs Hudson’s flat after he called to wish her a good night over his shoulder. He all but ran to their flat, fumbling to put the key in the keyhole. When at last he opened the door, he found himself pressed against the wall of their living room.  
John pinned him to the wall kissing Sherlock eagerly a hand tangled in his dark curls. "I love you. So much. Was worried about you."   
'Wo-worried?' he stuttered, welcoming the assault on his mouth, moaning slightly under John's hand.   
"You panicked. Were thinking too hard. We're not going anywhere. We belong here with you. Only place I want to be." He kissed him hard.   
'I feel better now,' he reassured him, his voice quivering and body strung hard. 'Want you,' he moaned. 'Want you so much.'   
"Good. Glad you're better. Had me a bit worried. Think everyone was. Want you too. Hard to think 'cause I want you so much..." He growled.   
‘Don’t be. You make everything better,’ he chased John’s lips. ‘John… You’re here. I’m here. You want me. I want you. Don’t think,’ he said breathlessly between kisses.   
"Says the master of over thinking," he teased nipping at his lip. "Come on, you. Bed. Now."   
‘I don’t do that,’ he protested yet eagerly making his way to their bedroom. ‘How do you want me?’ he asked; his eyes, pupils blown wide, bearing into John’s, voice going into a deeper register as they entered.  
John laughed softly. "You do it. You know you do. Part of your charm. Settle on your back however you're comfortable. So bloody gorgeous..."   
As eager as he was to have John’s hands on him, Sherlock purposely settled on the bed as instructed – but kept his clothes on. ‘You didn’t specify.’  
"Prat!" John shook his head with a smile. "Get those bloody clothes off before I accidentally ruin that shirt. It's my favourite on you. Bloody purple shirt of sex…"  
‘Yes, Sir. Which ones do you want me to remove? That is, if I can manage it myself,’ he added feigning struggling with the buttons on his cuffs. ‘If they offend you so maybe you could give me a hand,’ he suggested a teasing tone to his voice.  
John smirked. "I'm not offended. I just want you naked about five minutes ago. Don’t make me get the medical kit and the bandage scissors out and cut all that off of you." He added a touch of Captain Watson to his voice for good measure.   
'I'm not about to make you do anything, John. And certainly not something neat and proper,' he added starting to unbutton his trousers and giving up unbuttoning his shirt.   
Smiling he shook his head going to work on the buttons of Sherlock's purple shirt. "So beautiful..." He kissed him slowly.   
'Oh John, and here I thought you had uncontrollable urges in you tonight,' he remarked after a slow, long passionate kiss that had the both of them moaning and panting. 'Oh dear, I forgot to unlace my shoes,' he noted as he had pulled his trousers down to his thighs.

"And you're the genius." He teased stealing a kiss. "Fine, fine, I'll leave the shirt. For now. It’s open, don’t need to take it off." Shifting his attention to the shoes he tossed them to the floor with the socks quickly following them.   
'While you're down on your knees, John... And being practical. I happen to have developed an engorgement, I believe I am in need of medical attention,' he said in a detached, close to boredom tone, looking down at John.   
Trying not to snicker John slid his hands up Sherlock's thighs teasing him. "Mm is that so?? Well then maybe we better find a way to take care of that... There are so many options... What would be best... Decisions, decisions..."   
'The situation is urgent, I really need you to take care of that - or at the very least inspect it,' he demanded - or pleaded, he himself was not sure what tone his words carried - and placed a hand on John's nape, pulling him closer.  
Kissing Sherlock’s thigh, John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's cock stroking slowly. "Mm best just lie back and let me take care of that. We'll start with this and see if more treatment is needed."

Sherlock shivered under John's light, tender ministrations. Only a fool argues with his doctor,' he declared, taking a step back to sit and lie on the bed.   
Settling on the bed he kissed him again stroking him slowly. "You're going to have to keep me informed about how you're feeling so I can assess the treatment and make any changes."

'I'm sure you'll be able to observe any change, doctor,' Sherlock replied, closing his eyes to enhance the sensations John's attentions were stirring in him. 'Hm, this is... Good, John. Pressure is still there... I feel so hot,' he moaned.

"You're hot alright..." He murmured trailing kisses along Sherlock's neck. "Glad the pressure's about right. Just enjoy." Stroking firmly he watched him. "Beautiful."

Eyes still closed Sherlock felt everything more acutely - John's hot breath on the rapidly cooling trail of kisses he'd left on his neck, the caresses of the hand on his body, the pressure of the slow, sure stroking on his cock, the sound of John's and his breathing - not too loud yet in the silence of the flat but promising to become so as the heat of their activity would grow and turn into a furnace. 'Hm, John... So good to me... Love the feel of your hands on my body'

"Mm of course I'm good to you. I love you." He smiled kissing him slowly hands lightly slipping over him. "Glad you're all mine. Never letting you go." Stroking him slowly he nibbled along his neck. "All mine."

Sherlock's breath hitched under the tender ministration of John's his clever mouth and hands. 'All yours,' he confirmed. 'Always yours,' he promised. 'So good…'

"Impossible creature..." John murmured softly smiling up at him. "God, you are perfect..." Stroking him with teasing slowness he trailed kisses over Sherlock's heated skin.   
'Mh, John...' Sherlock moaned. ''M your creature... More...' he pleaded, softly writhing over the bedsheets.

"I've got you, love." He murmured. "Don't want to push you to far. We've got a lot of the night left. Tell me what you want, what you need."

'Not going to... Push me too far... Can handle a lot, you know,' he replied cockily. 'I want... You, Captain. Make me yours,' he asked his voice unsteady with excitement. 

"Mm someone's in a mood tonight," he chuckled warmly. "All right then you best get comfortable. A pillow under your hips will probably help."   
‘...In a mood? I’ve no idea what you mean,’ Sherlock retorted taking his pillow with urgency and placing it under his hips as John… suggested.   
"Liar," John chuckled running his hands along Sherlock's thighs. "Legs go on for ages, don't they..." he murmured softly.   
‘All the better to wrap around you.’  
"Going to make sure you're nice and open for me." Grabbing the ever handy bottle of lube he coated his fingers working Sherlock open patiently.   
Sherlock had closed his eyes again, enjoying the sensation of John’s precise fingers around and inside him. His movements were agonizingly slow, the doctor he was making sure that every condition was met for Sherlock to enjoy the night ahead – and he was. Even if John was taking his time, murmuring sweet nothings as he did so. Sherlock, regardless of how much he enjoyed John’s devoted and thorough attention, was having a hard time with John’s patiently preparing him.  
"You're being very patient. I know that's not easy for you." He smiled. "It'll be worth it, I promise." Carefully finishing his preparations he knelt between Sherlock's legs. Thumbs stroking over his hips he pulled him into his lap pushing into him slowly.

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat as John breached into him, the knowledge that he was being filled by this extraordinary man, this wonderful man who had returned to him, this brilliant man with whom his life was bright once more, brought about an indescribable feeling of wholeness. He put his hands on both sides of John’s lower back, firmly pulling him closer. ‘John,’ he breathed. ‘Captain, my Captain… Breathed the breath of life back into me... when you came back.’  
"I'm here. I'm here, love. Not going anywhere. Promise. Stuck with me. I am never letting you go. Never. All mine. You feel so amazing..."   
‘Oh yes I can feel you… here… so good… yours… yes, yours to do… whatever you want...’ he breathed, John’s expert thrusts making him writhe on the sheets under him.  
"That's it love." John encouraged gently as he rocked slowly sliding his hands over Sherlock’s chest. "So gorgeous. Love you so much. More than ever. Best thing to ever happen to me. You and Rosie."

‘Oh, God! John! Yes, there…!’ Sherlock groaned loudly, his eyes opening wide at the feeling of ecstasy. He gripped John’s hips firmly as his muscles contracted, the walls of his passage clenching around John.  
"Figured you'd like this," he chuckled thrusting slowly as he slid his hands over Sherlock. "So gorgeous like this. Love seeing you when you're so relaxed and not focussed on things."  
‘Focussed... on you… what you… make me feel… Sso good, John… Love you touching me,’ he panted, bringing his hands to caress over John’s sides. ‘Always yourss, always been yourss…’  
John smiled down at Sherlock giving his hard cock a slow teasing stroke. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you, wanted to touch you, make you feel so good."   
Sherlock shivered and moaned. ‘Now you can… you do. You have me… Ssuch… teasing…,’ he panted. ‘Meean… want more of you...’ he complained.  
"You'll get all of me you want and need and then some. I promise. Going to take my time and enjoy this. Especially since I've already got you begging and lisping." Rolling his hips slowly he kissed him. "Love you."   
‘’m not begging… or lissping,’ he protested weakly, his denial falling short. ‘Jawn… Closser… please… Want to feel you… againsst my sskin,’ he tried to press John down onto him.  
"Shhh I got you, love. I got you." Shifting a bit he settled more of his weight on Sherlock running a hand through his hair slowly. "Beautiful."   
Sherlock’s ears turned a deeper shade of pink at John’s compliment - he tried to bury his head into the mattress, sighing, gasping into the sheets as John continued taking him apart slowly. Speech eluded him.  
"No, come on now, let me see your face. So handsome. Never enough of you." He slid his hands over him slowly. "You feel so good."   
Wrapping his legs around John's hips, Sherlock brought him even closer 'Take more offff me,' he begged in a ragged breath, head bent backwards, eyelids half-closed, nostrils flared, his mouth open, enticing.   
"Look at you. How gorgeous you are. Love how you feel around me. Love you." He thrust slow and deep.   
'John...' he moaned, shivering under his lover's tender assault and words. 'L-love you, too,' he stuttered, his hands roaming over John's back up to his neck and his powerful arms. 'Mm, John...'   
"All yours, love, all yours. Always I promise." He kissed him slowly. "You're amazing. Never going to get enough of you. My sweet love." He ran his hand through Sherlock's dark curls.   
‘More...’ he breathed, pressing his face into John’s hand. ‘Not enough... John…!’  
"I know, love, I know. I've got you." John promised stroking his thumb over Sherlock's cheek as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.   
Sherlock’s body moved in rhythm with John’s, sweat quickly forming as his heartbeat increased along with John’s pace. The tenderness of his thrust had become less forgiving. Sherlock groaned loudly, panting inarticulate sounds of pleasure.  
"That's it." John panted encouragement. "Love how you feel. So perfect. Never enough of you."  
‘You’ve… all of me… take me… make me… whole… yours… won’t...break me...‘m ready...’  
"I know. Just happen to enjoy taking things a bit more slowly so I can savour everything about you." He kissed him eagerly. "Love taking you apart piece by piece."   
Sherlock returned John’s kiss just as eagerly – if a bit more messily. Quick study though he was, when his brain was no longer wired as it usually was he found himself unable to perform simple tasks he’d not mastered yet – such as kissing. ‘God…! John… you… you… you are...’  
"Mm I know. You are too. Amazing. Beautiful. Perfect part of the family. My missing piece," John panted nipping his lip with a low growl.   
Sherlock lowered his hands down to John’s wrists, encircling them. ‘Yours,’ he growled, gripping tighter, hoping John would get the message.  
"All mine." He kissed him hard, thrusting faster and harder.   
Sherlock tightened his hold on John’s hips, pressing their bodies even closer as his muscles clenched, spasms taking over him as the sensations of John’s deep attentions built up into an overwhelming explosion. He came in hard shots, his breathing ragged and erratic.  
‘John...’ he murmured. ‘That… was… amazing…,’ he commented, still out of breath.  
John panted against his neck, nodding slightly still shaking slightly with aftershocks. Sherlock's powerful orgasm had triggered his own. "Not sure amazing begins to cover it..." Running his hand through Sherlock's curls he kissed the tip of his nose with a smile.   
‘Can’t think of… anything better, just now,’ he remarked in a raspy voice as he ran his hands along John’s back. He hummed softly, content and closed his eyes. ‘Could stay like that for hours.’  
"Mm I could too. 'S nice, just holding you." Smiling he nuzzled his jaw. "Not boring at all, is it?" John teased him lovingly.   
‘Not at all,’ he confirmed. ‘Can’t be boring. You being there… makes it unboring,’ he sighed, turning his head towards John’s.  
"Thank you, love." He smiled kissing him slowly. "Always good to know I'm not boring. Never a dull moment with you."   
‘’M trying, dear. You never cease to amaze me,’ he added after a short pause. ‘I’m… hungry,’ he elaborated.   
John smiled watching the connections in Sherlock's head rewire themselves, running his hand through his dark curls. "How about we clean up a bit, then have tiramisu in bed?"   
‘It’s appealing. But I don’t want to move,’ he shook his head slightly. ‘Don’t want you to move either,’ he added, weakly encircling John’s back with his arms.  
Nuzzling his cheek he nodded. "Mm can wait a bit... Love every minute of this."   
‘Hm, I’m sure you do. John, I… I… thank you. I feel safe with you, in your arms. It is still… new to me, to be part of a loving family but… I’m so very happy that I am,’ he confessed, expressing his feelings still a difficult task for him.  
Cupping his cheek he smiled nuzzling his nose. "A bit new to me too. We'll figure it out together. Your parents are wonderful. Mycroft's not so bad. Mrs Hudson's a blessing. We're lucky. "   
‘I agree. She’s been telling us both since the start that we wouldn’t need two bedrooms. Not for us, anyway. We do need two – one for us, and one for our daughter. Rosie is a marvel,’ he replied awe in his voice. ‘How could we not see it when she did so clearly? How could we miss… What was staring us in the face?’ he wondered.  
"Mm suppose we were both afraid to make a move and risk losing what we had. She's a miracle. Our miracle. And I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted kids," he shook his head with a smile.   
‘Yes, I expect you’re right. I’d never expected… but now that I do… I don’t want to even _think_ of a time when neither you nor Rosie was there. It’s inconceivable,’ he declared in an utmost serious tone.  
"Good thing you won't have to. We're not going anywhere. I think on some level, in some way, Rosie's always known. The way she's always loved you so much. You're a very good father, Sherlock. Very good." He kissed him slowly. "Don't ever doubt that."  
‘An inkling, a connection deeper than mere intuition… Very young children are said to be more attuned to their intuitions, their _gut instinct_ even if they can’t express them let alone formulate a logical, sensible explanation after examining the data their brain’s processed. Mind you, if any toddler could, I’m sure that Rosie could,’ he mused. ‘A very good father? Hm. Who has regular breakdowns, not the least of them being at Christmas,’ he replied doubtfully. ‘I will try harder to be a good father for Rosie. A good partner for you. I promise.’  
"Sure, you had a bit of a breakdown, but the more important thing is you pulled yourself out of it. And very well, too. Mycroft pushed you into it. Now both of you know better. That is what counts. I think you're right about Rosie. She's always been remarkable."  
‘Not least because her dad is remarkable – fantastic conductor of light and master of emotions, on top of being a caring protector,’ Sherlock added warmly, meaningfully.   
"Flattery will get you everything," John laughed warmly. "Not least because her other father is a genius who's brilliant at deducing people, master of all things brainy, on top of being a loving, caring protector." "Don't push yourself too hard to be perfect. I don't expect you to be anything other than the Sherlock I know and love," John murmured softly.   
‘I was stating facts – that they are flattering is purely circumstantial,’ he dismissed, the brightened tip of his ears showing the impact of John’s praising words on him. ‘Hm. Not being… perfect. I told you before, it’s not a very great feeling. But I think we can be, together,’ he added softly, pressing his lips to John’s.  
"We can try to be as perfect as two imperfect people can be when they're together." He smiled kissing Sherlock sweetly. "We've got a nearly perfect daughter and puppy so I'd say that's a good start on a perfect family."   
_A good start on a perfect family…? _‘I need a shower,’ Sherlock said, strangely distant, à propos of nothing, letting go of his – albeit weak – hold on John.  
John gently held him in place. "Sherlock. Woah. Hey. Hold on. We're already a family. And a damn good one. And we'll keep getting better. All of us. You, me, Rosie, your parents, Mycroft and Greg, Mrs Hudson all of us. We can do this."   
‘There’s no reason to… I’m not upset, John,’ Sherlock retorted. ‘John, dear. I’m fine, really. It’s just… Well, I’m not quite familiar with the concept. Or reasonable expectations. I need to… adjust to it,’ he added discreetly worrying the bedsheets.   
Kissing him sweetly John nudged his nose. "Love us. Simple enough. And buy milk once in a while. That's about all I expect. You've done just fine so far and I expect you will for... Well, ever," he shrugged slightly with a grin.   
‘Hm, no. I will not ‘do fine’,’ he explained. ‘Loving you and bringing milk home – these I can most definitely do without thinking about it. But ‘fine’… is simply not enough. You deserve so much more than standard quality, John,’ he declared taking John’s hand in his. ‘Shower?’  
"And you always give me your very best. Rosie too. Because of you she knows much more and has experienced so much more than most children her age. You always make sure that I've got a meal waiting for me when I get home and a hot bath when my shoulder's acting up. You bring me tea when I'm working on the blog. And you've stopped insulting my case titles," he teased lovingly. "Shower and tiramisu sounds perfect."   
‘Do I? I hardly thought about it. It just sort of happened,’ he shrugged. ‘Besides, I see little point in having you become irritable – or pursuing criticising the titles you give to your blog posts when you obviously won’t change them,’ he replied lightly. ‘Lead the way.’  
"See you're learning how to keep me happy. I've changed a few of the titles after you've made suggestions. You're doing just fine. It shows how much you've grown that you don't even think about doing these things for me anymore." Adjusting the taps he waited for the water to warm up. "You're a very good partner, Sherlock."   
‘I do hope so. Keeping you happy… I am with you but… I still wonder how _you_ can be happy with me. There’s nothing logical about this,’ he commented. ‘It is what it is,’ he added after a short time pondering on the question, shaking his head as he put his mind away from thinking about finding logic in sentiment.  
John smiled wrapping his arms around Sherlock and looking up at him. "You knew from the start I needed some excitement and danger in my life. Living with you, there's never a dull moment. You gave me a reason to live again then, and you have again now. You love me with everything you are. I had a row with the chip and pin machine, you handed me your card without a second thought. You love me, you love Rosie. You’re everything we wanted and needed. And more."   
‘Isn’t that a bit soppy?’ Sherlock remarked, standing under the running water. ‘Hm, needs to be hotter,’ he commented as he grabbed a glass bottle of shower gel. ‘Well, don’t just stand there, John. You too need to clean up,’ he motioned for John to come closer. ‘No sense in taking your time, save water. We’ll end up having another shower anyway.’  
John smiled with a shrug. "It's the holiday season and we just found out some of the best news possible. Think I'm entitled to be a bit soppy. Aside from it all being true." Sliding his arms around Sherlock he nuzzled his chest. "Love you."   
‘Quite right, too,’ Sherlock smiled. ‘How ironic that a marvel such as you and Rosie happened to _me_. In that respect, I don’t regret Moriarty. We have his insanity and fixation to get to me to thank for Rosie’s existence,’ he commented, running his shower gel over John’s body.  
"The _only_ reason I will _ever _be grateful to him for _anything_.” John shook his head sliding his hands along Sherlock's arms. "Never thought I'd have the perfect family. Not even with Mary. Things were too complicated. But with you, everything's right."   
‘And interesting, too, I hope?’ Sherlock chuckled lightly. ‘With a decent part of danger – although kept relatively tame.’  
"And interesting too. Always interesting." John chuckled. "And just enough danger that it's not _too_ dangerous. Just enough to keep things lively."   
‘The last thing we want is to be a bored couple of adrenaline junkies,’ he approved. ‘We’d be useless without it.’  
"Good thing there will always be criminals who are stupid enough to think you won't catch them and I won't be along with you." He laughed. "At least we have job security."   
‘Not to mention that Scotland Yard and the government often find themselves owing us favours, resulting in even more stability,’ he nodded. ‘Alright, out you go. I’ll get the tiramisu while you wait for me in our defiled bed.’  
"I'll change the sheets." He laughed. "I know we'll change them again later but at least for now they'll be clean. Looks like I better do some laundry tomorrow so we won't run out of clean sheets."   
  
As Sherlock left the bathroom, traces of their enthusiastic return from the restaurant greeted him in the living room, clues that spoke for themselves – the painting of the skull askew, a stack of magazines scattered on the floor, the lamp next to the sofa upturned, their coats and scarves discarded on the floor.   
A sudden burst of self-consciousness brought him to wonder whether he’d been loud and whether the sound had been contained within their room. He didn’t think so, but he knew that Rosie would sleep through anything if sufficiently exhausted – which she clearly was after the afternoon they’d had – and Mrs Hudson would have most likely not heard a sound either if, as he imagined was the case, she had busied herself in her kitchen, presumably starting on a cake to bring them up in the morning.   
_Celebration – involving intimate relationships and emotional closeness, otherwise known as sex and cuddles.  
_He walked back into their bedroom, tiramisu and two spoons in hand, to find John waiting for him on their freshly made bed.

  
‘I’m sure you getting under the sheets would prevent you from getting cold,’ he remarked as he raked his eyes over John’s naked form. _  
_John grinned with a shrug. "I figured I'd just wait for you. It's not bad. Only a little chilly. I'm sure it'll warm up pretty quick. Come on. I'm more than ready for a snack."   
‘Your wish is my command,’ he replied as he made his way to John. ‘To replenish your energy,’ he stated, handing John the plate of tiramisu. ‘I’ll take care of supplying you with warmth,’ he added, resting his body against John’s, cradling him.  
Leaning into him he fed Sherlock a bite of tiramisu. "Mm see, this is nice. A delectable treat curled up with you. Couldn't be much better."   
‘Agreed. Although it would depend on what you are in a mood for. I’m not sure why I brought two spoons. I rather like you feeding me up,’ he commented.   
"At least you're not as skinny as you used to be." John teased. "And isn't that what a boyfriend's supposed to do, feed you up?" He smiled. "Feeding each other is more fun and more romantic."   
He plucked at a barely existent roll of fat on his stomach. ‘I know who I have to blame for that.’   
Poking him in the ribs he laughed. "You and all the biscuits you keep stealing from Mrs. Hudson."   
'Be quiet and stop saying nonsense. Give me another spoonful instead,' he demanded.   
"And eating Angelo's tiramisu," he teased stealing a kiss. "I like you healthy. You've had a ways to go after that stunt you pulled with Smith that landed you in the hospital."   
'Probably not one of my brightest moments,' he confessed, shame in his voice. 'But I do have a very good doctor to help me return to healthy standards,' he added, a faint smile on his lips.   
"Damn right you do. Not your smartest move, not my best moments. I'm lucky to have a detective who knows when I'm getting run down and does everything to help. We'll do better from here on out."   
Sherlock nodded. 'I wouldn't term it luck, but that's essentially what it boils down to. For both of us,' he declared, digging in the tiramisu with his own spoon and bringing it up to John's mouth.   
John smiled taking the bite. "Luck, fate, destiny... whatever it is we're lucky to have it. Makes all the bad stuff worth it."   
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he nodded, smiling softly. He snuggled closer against John and kissed his hair, eating absently, his fingers caressing John’s thigh.   
John chuckled wrapping an arm around Sherlock and nuzzling his hair. "Love you. More every day. Love our life together."   
‘Mh, as do I. Not to mention the recent changes in our sleeping arrangement. Or what came with that,’ he winked.  
"Mm have to admit I'm enjoying the change in our sleeping arrangements. Especially what came with it. I like sharing a bed with you, getting to hold you and talk to you is definitely a plus." He smiled kissing him.   
Sherlock returned the kiss obligingly, sweetly before it turned passionate and his previously feather-like, soothing caressing hand moved on to become more insisting.  
"Might want to set the plate aside." John chuckled. "Don't fancy getting the bed covered in tiramisu. You, however..." Scooping a dollop of the cream he made a trail down Sherlock's chest before slowly kissing and licking it off.   
‘Hm, that’s… Cold,’ he commented as the cream came into contact with his heated skin. ‘Much better,’ he added as he felt John’s tongue and hot breath on him. He set the plate aside, silently inviting John to continue.   
Chuckling he licked slowly looking up at him and giving a wink. "Mm and just when I thought Angelo's tiramisu couldn't get much better, I discover it tastes ever better on you..."   
Sherlock offered John a tempting smile, his eyes crinkling with definite interest. ‘Don’t you go letting on.’ He spread his arms across the bed a little more, inhaling sharply, exposing his taut muscles.   
John chuckled swiping another trail along one of Sherlock's hip bones nibbling lightly as he licked slowly. "Mm... Just keeps getting better..."   
‘More and more interesting, that’s a given,’ he shivered slightly under the coolness of the cream and the warmth of John’s breath against his skin.  
"Mm good to know..." John murmured softly giving Sherlock's hip a teasing lick and nuzzling lightly. "Glad I can make something so simple interesting."   
‘You make everything interesting, John,’ he protested. ‘Don’t stop. Please.’   
"Not going to stop,” he promised hands sliding over Sherlock slowly. "Mm so damn good... Love the way you taste. Like all my favourite things."   
‘Good. Your favourite things?’ he asked. ‘Care to elaborate?’ he stretched, flexing his muscles slowly, bringing his body closer to John’s hands, aware that the exercise his job required made his fit shape more apparent.   
"You gorgeous thing you..." John husked hands skimming over Sherlock's skin slowly. "Mm yeah... Coffee, a bit of tea, and you...”  
‘Just _a bit_ of tea? You? I find it hard to – oh. You mean I’m...’ his sentence stopped just as his mind came to a halt – processing even if John’s actions had been unmistakable, massive clues as to what place, precisely, Sherlock had in John’s life.  
John chuckled softly. Funny how it took so little to reduce Sherlock to the point where his brain started to go offline. "So sexy..."   
‘You’re rather pleasant-looking yourself,’ he replied, having found his voice again. ‘Kiss me, John,’ he demanded. ‘I need to have more data, know just how good you taste.’  
"Since you asked so nicely..." He smiled shifting up to kiss him slowly. "Love you... My gorgeous love..."   
_I’ll never tire of him calling me love_, he thought, his cheeks flushing slightly, the tip of his ears reddening at the praise and the endearment. He smiled, bringing a hand around John’s neck while the other pressed onto his back. ‘John… You taste wonderfully…,’ he commented, slipping his thigh between John’s legs.   
John rolled his hips slowly with a pleased hum. Nibbling along Sherlock's neck he smiled. "My gorgeous, brilliant love...”  
‘Yours,’ Sherlock confirmed, moving his thigh with clear intent as his head bent slightly backwards, giving John more access to his neck, both his hands roaming over the muscles of his back.  
Hissing faintly John groaned rubbing against Sherlock's thigh. "Damn right you are," he growled nipping along Sherlock's neck. "Always have been, always will be."   
Sherlock turned on his side so his body touched more of John’s. He could feel his body starting to respond to the situation, to the stimulation of John’s lips and teeth on his neck, to the sounds he was making. ‘Hm, yes. Obviously,’ he moaned slightly under John’s precise, careful exploration of the skin over his carotid artery where his pulse was increasing steadily.  
"Obviously..." He laughed softly pinning Sherlock under him. "Never get enough of you. Never had an addiction until you." Smiling softly he slid his hands over Sherlock's warm skin.   
‘Or been territorial? Not complaining here,’ he added softly breathing as John mouthed along his collarbone to his shoulder.  
"Mm have to admit I hated Moriarty from the minute he stepped in the lab and flirted with you..." John murmured groaning.  
‘Your er, feelings about that were clear as day. You were positively... radiating your… possessive streak. Hard to miss and harder to focus,’ he reflected. ‘A trait I find most attractive in you,’ he asserted, pressing himself harder against John, signifying him of the swell occurring in his nether region.  
John shrugged shifting slightly to rub and tease Sherlock more. "Mm... He was _flirting _with you. I knew something was off about him. Didn't trust him for a minute. He's only ever been good for one thing. Giving us Rosie. Don't know or care what his reasons were. All that matters is we're together and we have her."  
‘That’s all that matters,’ he concurred. ‘You know you can... trust me, don’t you? Even if I enjoy… you being territorial. Possessive,’ he added moaning softly under John’s teasing slithering of his body.   
"Sherlock, love, I trust you completely. Have since we first met. You've hardly given me any reasons not to trust you. Even the things you've done that have been more than a bit not good, you've had your reasons for them. That doesn't mean I'm not going to stand by when someone else thinks you're available."   
‘I know. I haven’t had the slightest desire to be… available before I met you – and even less now,’ he rocked against John in pursuit of more friction. ‘Although I do have to admit… that your being possessive… is rather appealing,’ he moaned clenching his hands under John’s grip.  
John groaned rolling his hips slowly and savouring the friction of Sherlock's skin against his own. "I can feel how appealing you find me being possessive." He smirked.   
Sherlock gasped. ‘You seem to find it… certainly alluring to have me... under you. At your… mercy,’ he commented between sharp breaths.  
"Mm and you don't seem to have any arguments about being under me…," he smirked nipping Sherlock's ear. "It's nice to know that at least some of what I thought this would be like was right."   
He squirmed. ‘You’re not about to… hear me _complaining_’ he replied, his eyes glazed with desire. The mere idea was ridiculous – or at least so he would think if he still were in any capacity to think. ‘Kiss me again,’ he requested. ‘With that fabulous mouth of yours,’ he grinded against John.  
"Well if you do complain I can always stop…," he teasingly threatened while kissing along Sherlock's neck. "Love when I get you all needy and eager. It's a nice boost to my ego."  
‘Don’t stop, John,’ his voice a whispering, panting plea, extending his neck and spreading his legs.  
Sliding a hand down Sherlock's chest he wrapped his hand around him stroking slowly. "Didn't plan on it... Never get enough touching you."   
Sherlock fell apart as John’s hand closed around him. He let out a whimper and shut his eyes, relishing the sensations – his brain was shutting off but his nervous system was still functioning. Very much so. ‘Nor will I… _ever_ have enough...’  
"Mm I hope so…," he murmured stroking teasingly as he kissed him slowly.   
‘John… More… I need… more,’ he pleaded, squirming more, all but thrusting against John in the limited range of movement he was capable of.  
"All right, love. I know." He murmured kissing him hotly. Grabbing the lube he carefully prepared Sherlock. "Just be patient."   
‘Been patient enough already,’ he grumbled. ‘I’m ready… Took me before...’  
"I know. I was there," John teased. "Just making sure. You can grumble all you want but I know you enjoy it..."   
Sherlock huffed. ‘Of course I… oh, God...’  
John smirked pushing into him slowly. "See if you're patient with me it's so much better."   
Sherlock’s lips were stuck in an O-shape, muscles clenching around John as he breached into him, all the way inside him. ‘J-J...John...’ he struggled the word out, the delicious sensation slightly verging on painful – he _was_ still sensitive, regardless of John’s tenderness and delicate love-making the previous hour. ‘Sso… good,’ he hissed, clutching at John’s sides.   
"Fuck..." John panted softly. It was taking every bit of his willpower to be careful and go easy.   
‘Not going to… break, John. I just, er… a bit,’ Sherlock informed John eloquently in an apologetic voice. ‘’m good,’ he offered two minutes after – two excruciatingly long minutes during which John was barely moving for the sake of not hurting his partner.   
"You are now." John kissed him slowly. "Told you we had plenty of reason to be careful. And I know you enjoy it." Hands sliding over Sherlock's warm skin he nuzzled along his neck. "Perfect..."   
'Wouldn't dare... to disagree,' he breathed. 'I feel... Wonder... Wonderful under your... Oh!' his eyes snapped open. 'Again. More... John?... Harder... Please...' he begged.   
Kissing him hotly he moaned deeply. "Yes, love. You feel so good." Settling his hands on Sherlock's hips he thrust deeper and harder. "Love you so much."   
Sherlock’s words turned into nonsensical sounds a few moments after John picked up the strength of his thrusts, the walls of his passage clenching and unclenching rhythmically as his breathing and moans became louder – so loud in fact that they might have to soundproof their bedroom. ‘Hnnng, J-J… hnnnng...’  
"That's it, love..." John encouraged. "Just feel. You're so good. Never going to get enough of you. My gorgeous posh boy."   
'All... Yours,' Sherlock breathed, leaving indentations as he clutched deeper into John's hips, hands going over his back, scratching hard.   
"God you're amazing..." He chuckled kissing along Sherlock's neck hotly hands sliding over him slowly. Grinning wickedly he quickly flipped them over smiling up at Sherlock.   
Looking surprised for a second Sherlock stopped moving – until he registered that John was still very much in the mood and evidently enjoying himself. He dipped his knees in the mattress on either side of John, pushed his cock back inside and started moving again, adopting a slow rhythm – he'd never tried such a position before and wanted to make it enjoyable for both of them. How could he if he rushed into it and missed clues? He lowered his eyes on John, smiled at him, caught his eye, lowered his gaze where John's prick slowly disappeared inside him and looked at him again with a suggestive smile. 'Riding,' he commented, his breathing barely back. 'You like it.'   
Snorting John swatted his hip with a grin. "You did _not_ just use that line?! But yes, you're right. I do like you riding me. Quite a bit actually. Slow and easy. Take your time. There's no sense in rushing."   
Sherlock's smile only grew wider and cockier. 'I believe I did.' He placed his hands on John's firm torso, his eyes roaming over it, fixing on the scar on his left shoulder while he undulated his hips in an upward movement, observing any tell John might give, subtly changing his movements to gauge what his partner liked the most. 'You like to watch,' he noted, moaning softly as he once more caught John's eyes fixed on the entrancing view of Sherlock's arse taking him in.   
"And you like to show off so I think it all works out rather well." John chuckled warmly. "I always like to watch you. You're bloody gorgeous and sexy and I will _never_ get enough of looking at you and watching you. Especially like this. Even more amazing than I could ever imagine." Sliding his hands along Sherlock's legs he moaned softly. "You feel so good..."   
'Then we are... in agreement,' he sighed, shifting slightly for John to penetrate him at another angle before sliding almost all the way up. 'Not regretting... Going further...' he declared, impaling himself on John's hard prick, groaning loudly as he did so and John was seated all the way inside him.   
"Agree completely..." He moaned deeply hips rolling slowly. "Just look at you... So gorgeous... Love watching you like this. So beautiful..."   
He closed his eyes, fingers raking across John’s torso and biceps, resuming the slow but steady pace he’d started with, undulating on John to vary the angle of penetration and increase both their pleasure – John’s panting mixed with his indicated that it worked. He lowered himself down John’s chest, mouthing, nipping at his collarbone, trailing kisses up his neck to nibble and bite lightly at his lower lips. ‘Sso good, J-John… Love… Love you insside me,’ he moaned against his lips.  
Tangling his hand in Sherlock's hair he kissed him hotly with a deep groan. "All mine." He panted. "Love you. More all the time. Never enough of you." Nothing compared to having Sherlock like this.   
Resting on his forearms on either side of John, Sherlock accentuated the rolling of his hips, going slightly faster, breathing, panting sweet nothings against John’s lips. Magnificent John who had been so unattainable, so out of reach for years, after whom he’d pined for so long and so hard, without whom his life lacked all excitement and appeal… John was his. He was not one to believe in any sort of deity but he did consider his meeting John a minor miracle – and a tremendous one that they both had finally found each other.  
Breathlessly John kissed him nibbling on his lip. How the hell had he got so lucky? Fate had obviously put Mike in his path to lead him to Sherlock. And after everything they'd been through, especially the last few months, they had sorted everything out. And on top of it all Rosie was theirs.   
Sherlock sat up on his heels, taking John deeper, his neck thrown back as he tried aiming at his prostate, keeping the same rhythm – he didn’t feel near reaching his apex yet, and John didn’t seem to be either. They had all the time in the world and going at a relatively slow pace would enhance everything for the both of them. Intimate relations were still new and something which held a particular importance in their eyes after all these years of sexual tension and misguided feelings and, while not strictly necessary to a healthy relationship – he and John had been in one – albeit not always healthy – long before going to bed together and even started raising a child – _their _child – before anything physical ever happened – Sherlock had to admit that they were an extremely satisfying addition.   
"How are you so gorgeous?" John murmured sliding his hands over Sherlock slowly. He could watch Sherlock like this all night, forever really. The slow pace heightened each sensation. All this made all of it almost worth it.   
Sherlock panted heavily as he brought himself up and down John's length, his body shivering and muscles tensing with the effort, sweat pearling down his chest. 'Mm, J-John... Thiss iss sso good... Love... I love you so much,' he breathed extending his arms towards John, inciting him to sit up and take him into his arms. 'I'm sso... Happy you came back... Want to be... In your arms... Want you to have... To take all of me…'  
Sitting up he leaned back against the headboard wrapping his arms around Sherlock and holding him close. “I love you, too. Here now. Not ever leaving. Promise. You’re stuck with me. You, me and Rosie. The best family I could ever hope for,’ he kissed Sherlock slowly.

Returning the kiss with fervour Sherlock passed his fingers through John's hair, stopping his movements long enough to encircle John's waist with his hips. 'Yess. No. The besst... _I_ could hope for... When I dared hope.’

John kissed him slowly sliding his hand down to stroke Sherlock slowly. "You feel so damn good... Love you. Best thing to ever happen to me. Never letting you go. Not ever. You were what was missing my whole life."

‘Mm, likewise… So dull and grey without you… John Watson came in… Eclipsed the sun. Took my… Breath away,’ he panted along the slow rhythm of John’s stroking. ‘Sstill do...’

"Good to know you still like having me around." He teased nibbling along his neck. "Meeting you was like being awake for the first time in a long time."

‘Ah, you’re in… valuable, John,’ Sherlock protested weakly, rising to the tease. ‘I need you, ah, sso much… My darling… My love…,’ he moaned. His legs crossed around John’s waist he pulled him down against his body, his pupils wide and his eyes dazed with excitement as his back hit the mattress once more.

John kissed him slowly. "Never enough of you.... You an' Rosie, my whole world. Never enough. Always feels right. So perfect for me. Love you so much." He nuzzled along his neck.

Baring his neck, his hands roaming across John's back and caressing his arms, Sherlock put his heels on the bed, keeping John in a tighter hold to allow for better friction as he penetrated him and kept stroking slowly, a substantial amount of precome allowing for most excellent lubrication. 'John... John, yess,' he panted. ''m yours, always.'

"Damn right you are. All mine." He kissed him hotly, stroking him. "Feels so good. Always feels so good. Love being in you. Nothing better.…"  
‘Couldn’t agree… more,’ he replied breathlessly, snaking his hand down to stroke himself, giving John the possibility to stay on his arms to properly fuck him.

"Love watching you. So damn hot." He panted driving into him deep and hard. "Never going to get enough of you."

'I know... you do. Oh! John!' he cried out, his head lolling to the side, his eyes wide open. 'Lucky I... Don't... ever want to... leave…'  
"Mm works out well for both of us, doesn't it?" he chuckled taking the opportunity to trail kisses along Sherlock's neck. "Perfect for each other…"  
The rhythm of Sherlock’s stroking had increased so much that it had become frantic, his breathing had become ragged and erratic, his eyes had closed to focus on the sensations John was giving him. ‘Sso… J-John, I… Come…?’ he asked, begging.   
John kissed him hotly. "I've got you, love. Just let go. Just let it happen and enjoy it."   
‘I will… God! I will… But… You?’ he struggled the words out, holding off his own orgasm in the hope that John would fill him again. ‘Want… you… to come... in me,’ he gasped.  
"Promise, love. Promise. Want to as much as you want me to." He kissed along his neck teasingly.   
Focussed as he was on chasing his orgasm, Sherlock's hand on his prick didn't slow and he closed his eyes at John's reassurance, missing his teasing kisses by a mile. His whole body stilled as his muscles contracted, an electrifying strength shooting from his groin, short-circuiting everything else.   
Moaning deeply John kissed him hotly holding on long enough to enjoy the strength of Sherlock's orgasm. Hands settling on Sherlock's hips he filled him.   
An audible, satisfied sigh came out from Sherlock’s mouth as he came to, shuddering under John’s rivalling release and spasms. ‘That was… fantastic...’ he declared between breaths after a minute. ‘Could sleep for days,’ he mumbled in an already half-asleep voice.  
John chuckled nuzzling along Sherlock's neck. "Mm we're pretty spectacular... Yeah, sleep for days sounds good. Amazing."   
‘Mm. You are,’ he mumbled, disinclined to get up. ‘Sleep now?’ he enquired as he put his arms around John.  
"Mm yeah. Think we could both do with a bit of a nap. Long as we want." He nuzzled his cheek. "God I love you."   
‘Mm. Good. Me, too, John,’ he replied, taking the sheet off from the bottom of the bed to cover them. ‘Upside down.’  
Laughing softly he held him close. "Mm sweet dreams sleepy head."   
  


Sleeping soundly it took a bit for his brain to process the sound of his phone. Reaching for it blindly he answered. "'Lo...?"   
"John?"   
Blinking to place the voice he was instantly more awake. "Clara? What is it? What's wrong?" Slipping out of bed he pulled on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns.   
A soft grunt sounded from the bed as Sherlock registered the movement around him – and the loss of John’s warmth. Usually a sound sleeper it was only upon hearing John’s speaking, presumably on the phone because his conversation sounded truncated but not devoid of sense, as well as what sounded like urgency in his voice that Sherlock realised that their sleeping peacefully together had likely come to an end. He groaned and lift himself up, looking down on his stomach. ‘Sticky,’ he muttered. He walked his way to the bathroom on still relatively unsteady feet.  
‘John?’ he called, pulling a woollen burgundy dressing-gown around him. ‘What’s happening? I suppose you are not coming back to bed,’ he commented, resigned.  
"Hold on a tic, Clara. I'm going to run this by Sherlock." Sighing he ran a hand over his face. "Someone used Clara's information to steal almost a quarter million in funds from her company."   
Sherlock looked at John clearly unconcerned. ‘So?’  
John sighed deeply looking up at the ceiling in a silent prayer for patience. "So... She's very nearly my sister in law and she didn't do it. It'll be hard to prove though. She was calling for help, Sherlock. Because we're family." He explained slowly.   
Sherlock looked both lost and astounded. ‘That she’d ask _you_ doesn’t come as such a surprise but what do you want _me _to do about it? Identity theft with subsequent fraud – that’s hardly difficult,’ he commented. ‘That would be a five. Or a six, maybe. That the police could solve.’  
"Because she's likely to be arrested in the morning and is logically upset. Yes the police could handle it. But what would take them days you can clear up in a few hours. It's family, Sherlock. I'm asking you to do this as a favour to me..." He looked up at him.   
John’s gaze was pleading and unflinching. Sherlock sighed. ‘Adieu, rest in my lover’s arms.’ Head hung low, he made his way back to their bedroom, grumbling. ‘There’s always something!’ he muttered as he took fresh clothes out of the wardrobe before turning the shower on.  
John sighed rubbing his head. "Bloody drama queen... Makes it seem like he's off to an execution and not a simple case." Following Sherlock he stepped in the shower with him. "You do realize that I will reward you in any way you want."  
‘Mh. Good of you to join me. We’ll save time that way,’ he paused, grabbing cedar scented shower gel. ‘Apparently, time seems to be of the essence,’ he remarked snidely as he applied it in a brisk manner. He was obviously bearing a grudge for being deprived of John’s company in their bed – not to mention being woken up so abruptly, for no sensible reason. _Family_, he thought scoffing.  
"Sherlock. Try. For me. Clara's very sweet and her job helping non profit's get money means the world to her. And she means the world to Harry. And Harry means the world to me. You can't tell me that if Mycroft honestly _needed_ your help that you wouldn't drop everything to help him. You'll have this cleared up in a few hours at the most"   
‘Mycroft would never really_ need_ my help for anything,’ he scoffed. ‘Besides, can’t you _see_ I’m in the shower instead of the bed? That does qualify as trying and more than that – getting ready to have the job done.’  
"And I love you for it." He massaged Sherlock' scalp, a small gesture of thanks. "Clara's been dying to meet you for ages but she was too shy. She didn't want to bother you and take time away from something important to just meet you."   
‘Yes, yes that’s nice of her. She did it anyway but I suppose it’s the thought that counts,’ he replied, frustration in his voice. ‘Hurry, would you? You did say we had to act quickly,’ he reminded John as he stepped out of the shower.  
He sighed. "Sherlock, I'm not any happier about our night being interrupted than you are. Would I like to still be in bed asleep with you? Yes. But we're not and Clara needs our help. If I didn't think this was important, I would have just calmed her down. But it's pretty serious. Harry'll be your family too, you know. And Clara."   
‘Ah, they’re planning to get married. Again. It certainly shows commitment, on Clara’s part especially. I hope you know I’m doing this for _you_, John,’ he sighed discontentedly as he finished towelling off in a brisk manner. ‘Let her know I’ll take her case,’ he added going back into their bedroom. ‘I need her to be calm to give me every detail she can think of.’ His voice had not _quite_ lost the sharpness it still had moments ago – Sherlock really loathed being woken up unexpectedly when he was enjoying the rare respite, after all. However, seeing how John was affected by Clara’s predicament and how strongly he insisted Sherlock take up her case had somewhat softened him.   
He put on the navy suit he’d previously hung along with a white crisp shirt and was busy fixing his curls when John went out of the bathroom. Behind them the unmade bed bore the traces of their ardent display of passion.  
‘I’ve got clothes out for you,’ he gestured to the neat pile at the bottom of the bed. ‘Get dressed. I’ll call up a cab. At this hour they’re not likely to appear if we just go out in the street,’ he explained, giving a sharp nod at his reflection in the mirror before taking his mobile phone out.  
John kissed his cheek. "Already went through the details, love. Harry will have her as calm as possible. I know you're doing this for me. I appreciate it." Dressing quickly he sent Mrs Hudson a message before joining Sherlock to wait for the cab. Taking his hand he squeezed it. "Thank you."   
‘You’re welcome,’ he offered graciously, squeezing his hand back.   
  
‘Victoria station,’ he informed the taxi driver a few moments later.  
"I'll warn Harry, again, to be nice and not give you a tongue-lashing. That we've let things go and she shouldn't hold it against you that you were gone." He sighed. "She'll probably be more focused on Clara."   
'Thank you. She really should have let this go by now. _You_'re over it.' He drummed his fingers against his thigh and added, after a few seconds of contemplation 'I can only hope that Clara's case will prove interesting enough. Unlikely, though a man can hope,' he sighed as they arrived at the station. Sherlock paid the cabbie and headed straight to the machines to get two tickets to Sutton, leaving London 10 minutes later. They checked the platform and boarded the train. Sherlock closed his eyes, settled against the window, John against his side, waiting for the train to start.   
John squeezed his hand. "Might be better than you think."   
  
  
Getting off the train he pulled Harry into a hug. "Before you ask, Rosie's sound asleep at Mrs Hudson's with Sultan. Didn't want to wake her up."   
Harry nodded. "Next time. Don't see enough of my niece." She stared Sherlock down. "This is the only thing I'm saying. Don't ever do that to Johnny again."   
John sighed. "Harry... You promised."   
"And that's the end of it. Clara's waiting."


	4. A Minor Case and a Great Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sour early morning mood, a prejudiced police officer, and the promise of a dinner.

Harry and Clara’s house was small but warm, the mismatched furniture bearing witness to their shared history.  
‘John! I’m so relieved you could make it! Thank you. Really. Mr Holmes, it’s an honour to have you here and that you agreed to...’  
  
‘Sherlock,’ he interrupted rising an inquisitive eyebrow. Clearly she wasn’t aware of the recent development in John and his relationship – obviously Harry was not either, she would have not let her partner and wife-to-be entertain such a skewed assumption. Harry was many things that even Sherlock reproved of but she was lovingly dedicated to and fiercely protective of Clara.  
  
‘I do hope your case proves to be interesting,’ he declared in a tired yet haughty tone. ‘I would not have come, especially as I know that the police, inept at their jobs though they are, would have been able to solve that particular problem. Eventually.’  
  
Clara’s face fell – _there must have been a good reason for him to indeed come down_, she reflected. He was on the verge of explaining why he _had _come but John cut him off.

John hugged Clara warmly. "It's good to see you again, Clara. You did the right thing calling us. We'll get this all sorted out. Tell us everything. No detail is too small or unimportant. Have there been any changes at work lately? Someone who has a grudge against you for some reason?" He squeezed her hand in support, aware that the situation was difficult to discuss.  
  
She smiled faintly back, ashamed to have bothered Mr Holmes – Sherlock – despite John’s reassurance.  
‘Mh, not that I can think of...’ she trailed off as Mr Holmes – Sherlock – rolled his eyes. He was visibly trying to be discreet but failing by a mile.  
  
‘Anyone new at your workplace?’  
  
‘Oh. Yes, actually. Josh. Josh Molding. A trainee who’s been employed by the hospital to do… Oh, I can’t remember what he’s doing.’  
  
‘Stealing your identity and money while he’s at it,’ Sherlock replied.  
  
John elbowed him in the ribs giving him a look. "That's good, Clara. That gives us a start. Could be corporate espionage. Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Trouble logging in to your computer at work or bank account?" he coaxed gently.  
  
‘No, not stealing _my _money...’  
  
‘Obviously,’ Sherlock mumbled looking around the room. ‘Bit shabby, isn’t it?’ he gestured to the furniture in their living room. ‘Corporate espionage… You’d like that to be clever, John, but it does seem a little too obvious.’  
  
‘I do have trouble logging onto the computer at work. As well as accessing some files. I’m always having the guys from I.T. consult...’  
  
‘And Josh comes to help. He’s a trainee in the I.T. department,’ he explained. ‘It really _is _obvious,’ he grumbled.  
  
John nudged Sherlock again a bit sharper. "Clara was telling me he appeared out of nowhere and has disappeared again. Very few other people remember him. Reminds me a bit of someone else who worked in IT..."  
  
‘I understand your point, John, but do admit that linking that man _there_ for _that _type of crime… That’s where the similitude between them stops. Not enough grandeur in that,’ Sherlock commented. ‘The information, however, is of importance. Thank you for sharing it, Clara. And for relaying it to us.’  
  
Harry glowered at Sherlock. "So sorry our home is not up to your usual Buckingham Palace standards. Most of our furniture's come from family and been in storage for some time. It carries sentimental value. Not that you care."  
  
Harry’s outburst combined with John’s nudging and disappointed looks made him add ‘I apologise for being curt and obnoxious. I will endeavour to act better. You are family.’  
  
John sighed. "Harry, let me help you with tea and coffee while Sherlock and Clara chat. He'll be nice."  
  
"He makes her start crying again I won't be held responsible for what happens." Harry growled storming to the kitchen.  
  


John followed Harry to the kitchen. "Please don't start, Harry. He's a bit cranky being woken up early. He's trying very hard to be nice. Give him a chance to get his hooks in the case and he'll be fine." Looking at her he smiled. "I'm happy for you and Clara."  
  
Harry snorted with a grin. "Same to you two. About time."  
  
John shrugged with an identical grin. "Seems things are finally looking up for the Watson siblings."  
  
  
‘What just happened, there?’ Clara asked confounded.  
  
‘What in particular do you find puzzling?’  
  
‘Well… you apologising all of a sudden, for a start,’ she replied, refusing to let herself be intimidated. ‘And what you find so obvious in my problem,’ she added.  
  
‘Clearly that trainee “came out of nowhere” as you said because he needed to have experience to put down on his curriculum vitae. Working in a hospital is not about to become uninteresting on the job market – tolerance to stressful situations and personalities, schedules out of the 9 to 5 norm, work with a large diversity of people that implies tolerance.  
You – or anyone else in your… department – didn’t know about him because the head of human resources’ decision to employ him was not very legal and bordered on slavery. I believe it was what can be called a “win-win’ situation: he gets a line on his C.V. and the hospital gets a free worker. It’s a common enough practise, no matter how unethical it is.  
But that man still needed money, obviously. He figured that stealing money from the charity would not be missed as much as if it originally came from the hospital. As for targeting you – well, he had to frame it on someone. You were a convenient scapegoat to him,’ he delivered his deductions at half his usual speed – drowsy as he still was with interrupted sleep.  
There was a stunned silence.  
  
‘Wow. John depicts you as quick as a whip on his blog but I thought he was exaggerating,’ she commented, awed.  
  
‘He is.’  
  
‘Thank you. Really.’  
  
‘Family.’  
  
‘Yes, you said. But you haven’t answered to my first question. I believe I know the answer, but...’  
  
‘John and I are in a relationship.’

Clara jumped at him, bestowing him with one of the fiercest hugs he’d ever received, squealing her congratulations. Sherlock accepted the devastating hug with poise, unsure how else to.  
  
‘When’s the wedding?’  
  
‘I-I’m sorry?’ he stuttered.  
  
‘Not there yet? Knowing John it’ll come soon enough,’ she winked. ‘Thank you again for solving that all so quickly… And you didn’t even have to investigate or anything. I really am impressed.’**  
  
**

Harry poked her head out of the kitchen making sure that Clara wasn't in tears again. Shaking her head with a smile she chuckled.  
"You sure know how to pick 'em, Johnny. Even I have to admit he's good looking. About bloody time. And I know he's a far sight better for you than that woman ever was. You'll be my best man? Won't you? And of course Rosie will be our flower girl. We're thinking some time in the spring. Maybe April. Whenever we both can get some time off."  
  
John chuckled. "Now Harry, Mum always taught us not to speak ill of the dead. Mary was complicated and we'll leave it at that. Of course I'll be your best man. I'd be hurt if you asked anyone else. And I'm sure Rosie will be thrilled at the prospect of a pretty dress."  
  
  


‘Ever since Harry and I… made up and she told me about John and his “mad flatmate” I was curious of who you were and followed all your cases together on John’s blog – as well as your own blog, to get a sense of who you were. It’s so hard to forge an idea of a person without meeting them. Of course _you_ wouldn’t think so,’ she chuckled.  
  
Sherlock’s eyes lit up. Although he was not keen on chit-chat he always was happy for others to express their admiration for his intellectual prowess – Lord knew that it didn’t happen often enough and would have never happened at all hadn’t he met John.  
‘Likewise. I mean, pleased to meet you, Clara. John keeps saying that you’re “an awfully sweet person and just so good for Harry” and of course, the two of you being family… It would have been… not good not to meet before your wedding. John did have to insist I come down but I happen to be glad he did. As I said. It would have been rude.’  
  
‘Oh, dear John!’ she exclaimed, seemingly unperturbed that he had not returned the courtesy of appreciating her own character. He might have still been making up his mind and evidently there was that silly grumpiness he visibly was still under. John had told her that Mr – Sherlock – was having a hard time coming to terms with emotions even though he was doing much better than how he’d been when they first met.  
  
‘The wedding… How did you know, then? We’ve barely told anyone – well apart from our parents and John.’  
  
Sherlock merely stared at her. ‘Mind replaying the information I told you?’ his tone was tongue-in-cheek.  
  
‘Oh. Oh! Of course. Yes. I know you’re not too keen on chatting but… Go on, tell me everything,’ she encouraged, seating herself down on their sofa, gesturing for Sherlock to do the same.  
  
‘About what in particular?’  
  
‘You and John, of course,’ she laughed softly. ‘When did it happen? Where were you? How did you feel? What about Rosie? What’s changed for you? Did you expect it to happen? Did you love John for a long time before it happened?’  
  
_Oh, Lord. Please John. Come back.  
_Sherlock looked at her as if she’d grown another head – interesting, but terrifying. He froze.  
  
‘Did I…? John,’ she called before getting up, ‘I think I might have… Sherlock doesn’t look too good, come see him?’ she asked, passing her head through the kitchen door.  
  
John chuckled carrying Sherlock's tea and a plate of biscuits. "Just a bit of information overload. He'll be fine in a bit. He's still adjusting to having lots of family care about him. Just give us a moment." Setting the tea down he brushed Sherlock's hair off his forehead. "Come on, love. It's not so terrible. She means well."  
  
Harry wrapped an arm around Clara. "Mm a day to mark down. The day you broke Sherlock Holmes," she laughed softly.  
  
Sherlock exhaled softly, catching John’s hand. ‘Thank you. Yes, I know she is. I am _not_ broken,’ he retorted somewhat harshly, defensively. ‘I don’t need _fixing_,’ he explained, his voice more settled. An awkward silence fell, Clara eyeing him and Harry with concern.  
‘...Not good?’ he asked John eventually who pinched his lips imperceptibly, unwilling to draw attention to a mishap in his behaviour but clearly not denying it either. Sherlock took a large breath in and faced Harry, still holding John’s hands as he whispered ‘Apologies for the er, outburst. It’s nothing against you, I assure you.’  
  
John smiled softly. "No, love. You're not broken. Not broken at all. I'd never think you were. Harry and Clara don't think so either. Should have thought to warm you Clara's a hugger," he chuckled.  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I know. I've heard enough from Johnny to know not to take it personally. You're doing us a huge favour and we appreciate it. Especially at this hour of the morning when you're short on sleep." She gave Sherlock a hint of John's trademark smirk. "Welcome to the family. You found it all on your own. It's little and broken, but still good. Yeah. Still good."  
  
John groaned. "Harry, please tell me you did _not_ just quote a Disney movie?"  
  
She smiled with a shrug. "It's Clara's favourite. Seemed appropriate."  
  
‘Family means that no one gets left behind,’ Clara added, nodding wisely, getting closer to Harry.  
  
Dumbstruck by such a reaction – but what other reaction could there have been coming from John’s family? – Sherlock felt his cheeks colouring slightly.  
‘Er, thank you,’ he commented, unsure. ‘We’ll still have to investigate properly in the morning,’ he directed towards John, recovering quickly, focussing on the work he’d been assigned to do that had become more than simply a task. ‘Need evidence for the police,’ he added.  
  
John nodded. "Which I'm sure you'll be able to round up without too much trouble. Think we should put a call in for Greg? It might speed things along if the authorities here already know that you're right and Clara had nothing to do with this."  
  
‘Obviously. It’s hardly the first time I consult on such a type of work,’ he replies. ‘Although admittedly it’s been a while since I did, and since the police of Sutton doesn’t know me a call to Lestrade would indeed be helpful,’ he remarked ruefully.  
  
John nodded. "I'll call a bit later when he's in the office. I knew you'd solve this no problem since you always see these things clearly."  
  
‘Yes, heaven forbid Scotland Yard’s night gets interrupted,’ he mumbled.  
  
Sensing that the atmosphere was becoming heavier, Clara suggested they relax in front of a film. ‘Or maybe you’d like to catch up on that interrupted sleep,’ she winked. ‘You’d manage at least five by the time your friend gets here. I assume you’d call him about nine then, John?’  
  
John sighed with a smile. "Harry, be a dear and shove it. Yeah, probably about 9. I'll leave a message for him to call me after he gets in. You'll like him. He'll be part of the family too. He and Sherlock's brother are a couple."  
  
‘Mistaking me for your sister already, John?’ Clara teased.  
  
‘I'd rather _you _shoved it, John. If you recall, I can take it,’ Sherlock spoke over Clara, his words droning out hers, leading to a slightly embarrassed chuckle from the other people present.  
  
‘Let’s hope that Sherlock’s brother is not as… laid back when it comes to these sort of comments.’ It was clear that she was not judging him and that she wasn’t offended – Harry had had the same sort of attitude when they had started dating – but the creases around her eyes and on her forehead indicated she did worry: would he voice the same thoughts regardless of the company he was keeping or the stage of his relationship?  
  
John snickered. "Now you might hear that sort of thing from Greg. But Mycroft... I doubt it... I highly doubt it. He's... Well you'll just have to meet him."  
  
‘I dare hope I’m as different from Mycroft as can be and that the sole real similarity we share is that of our name. And our blood. Fine, and our… entourage,’ he added as John threw him an undisguised reproachful look.  
  
‘Siblings rivalry, I take it?’  
  
‘If you will. Now, about that catching up on interrupted sleep you mentioned earlier, where might we expect to sleep,’ Sherlock enquired, hoping to move the conversation away from his relationship with Mycroft.  
  
Harry smiled. "Guest room's small but I'm sure you'll both fit. Down the hall on the right. Can't miss it."  
  
‘Thank you. If anything John’ll fit inside me,’ Sherlock replied, taking John’s hand and leading him down the hall as the latter cleared his throat loudly so as to try that most of his comment be unheard. ‘I’m not insatiable!’ he protested. ‘I was simply stating a fact!’  
  
She gently pulled Clara closer. "From what Johnny's said, Sherlock's brother is even more impossible."  
  
‘That seems to be quite a feat,’ she remarked, chuckling and shaking her head as the two men disappeared behind the door to the guest room.  
  


John chuckled shaking his head with a sigh. "Sherlock, really?! I'd rather Harry not know the details of our sex life." Rolling his shoulders he smiled. "Clara seems to have taken a liking to you. Helping her's put you in Harry's good graces."  
  
‘It’s hardly a difficult conclusion to come to,’ he shrugged. ‘Harry doesn’t seem the type not to have made that particular deduction. I’ll try and refrain from any other… indiscretion, if it makes you that uncomfortable,’ he added sincerity lacing his every word. ‘You know I don’t… mean to. However, I have a feeling I could get on well with Harry if the two of us teamed up to make you uncomfortable – her sharing embarrassing stories of you growing up and me… well, sharing embarrassing stories about you now,’ he teased taking the dressing gown he knew was John’s favourite out of the bag he’d packed earlier. He might not be very well-versed in adequate social behaviour but he was certain that parading as he did at home in barely more than his boxer briefs – until Rosie woke up and he’d put something more decent on – would be frowned upon.  
  
John rolled his eyes laughing. "Oh I know you two will get along like a house on fire. Just know I can do the same thing to you. And I have Mrs. Hudson and your mother on my side."  
  
Sherlock huffed, clearly scandalised. ‘You _wouldn’t. _You wouldn’t do that – embarrass me to get in_ Mycroft_’s good books. I suppose keeping my mother – or Mrs Hudson for that matter – out of this… embarrassing Sherlock endeavour of yours would be wishful thinking,’ he added after a pause. ‘If you must lead this campaign… then so be it,’ he sighed. ‘But don’t involve _Mycroft_,’ he insisted.  
  
"No involving Mycroft. Promise. Your mum and Mrs. Hudson are an entirely different thing." He grinned as Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me." Reaching up he kissed him slowly. "In case I haven't told you today, I love you."  
  
‘I know it does. That’s precisely the reason why I’ve done this and voluntarily left our warm bed to go to _Sutton_. But as you are pleased by it – or the subsequent help I provided anyway – I can’t stay mad at this fact no matter how much it annoyed me in the first place. I share the sentiment. John. I love you, as well. ’  
  
Nudging his jaw softly John smiled. "Better for you and Harry to meet when there's something to put you in her good graces than some other time when she might decide to rake you over the coals for things that are well in the past now."  
  
Sherlock brought his hands down to John’s hips. ‘Let’s get to bed.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Sleep awaits us. Although...’   
  
Laughing softly John smiled. "Mm let's get comfortable and see what happens."  
  
Sherlock drew the covers and got into bed, extending his arms as he waited for John to come in his embrace. ‘I won’t try anything. You can trust me,’ he added in a soft, low voice, his words completely at odds with his body.  
  
"Right. Heard that one before. _Said_ that one before." Chuckling he curled against Sherlock kissing him lazily. "Best thing I could ever be addicted to... And I really should show my appreciation for you being so good through this whole thing when I know this case isn't particularly difficult."  
  
‘Mh. You being there is all the appreciation I need right now,’ Sherlock replied softly holding John close while a hand trailed down to his hips and backside, tenderly caressing the firm muscles.  
  
John wiggled against him with a smile. "We'll see if you say that after dealing with the local authorities," he chuckled. "Just at least try to be nice."  
  
‘You know I can’t promise that. I’d have to be very relaxed. I don’t think being woken up in the middle of the night is very conducive to a relaxed state of mind. That’s what Lestrade is for: appeasing the local authorities.’  
  
"I know, love. Just try not to piss 'em off too much. Only call them stupid idiots if they're being that more than usual," he chuckled softly.  
  
‘Hm, I’ll try. “More than usual”… I don’t have a frame of reference for how dense they are,’ he reminded John. ‘They’re not Scotland Yard.’  
  
"Somewhere between Anderson and Greg, I guess. Just try. That's all anyone can do. Just lay out the evidence so even Anderson could follow it and we should be fine."  
  
‘Lay out the facts and not be myself, then. A similar attitude as when the Court asked me to stand as witness in Moriarty’s trial,’ he wondered. ‘Leave as early as possible. Crime can’t wait. Even if it’s not one. Abstaining from doing it would be one,’ he commented, bending his head to kiss down John’s neck, pressing himself more closely against John as he continued fondling him, fingers softly trailing down the inside of his hips.  
  
John nodded. "Mm and our excuse for leaving quickly after Clara's been found wholly innocent is that we've got to get back to Rosie. People love reading about the adventures you two have when I write things on the blog," he moaned softly.  
  
‘I’m not remotely interested in what people like. What _you_ like, however...’ he countered pursuing his slow, caressing exploration, tongue poking out of his mouth before he started sucking gently on his lover’s shoulder. ‘What _you_ like is immensely interesting,’ he breathed against John’s skin surveying the spot he’d sucked turn into a satisfying red mark. ‘Do you want me to continue?’ he whispered.  
  
John huffed a laugh pressing against him. "Does it feel like I want you to continue? It's pretty safe to say that I'm going to like just about anything you feel like trying. Within reason of course." Smiling he ran his hand though Sherlock's curls. "Gorgeous."  
  
Sherlock shivered slightly, enjoying the feel of John’s fingers in his hair. ‘Hm yes, it does,’ he replied in a hum. ‘Could only be a physical response to an external arousing stimulation. Want to make sure,’ he continued in a deep, low voice as he kept his touch purposely light.  
  
"Mm you just love to tease and tempt, don't you..." he chuckled, running his nose along Sherlock's jaw and kissing a trail along his neck with little nibbles.  
  
‘It’s not intentional,’ Sherlock refuted. ‘Besides, I don’t hear you complaining.’  
  
"Mm no, of course it's not intentional," he chuckled nipping his ear teasingly. "Never going to get any complaints from me about what you do. Not a chance. And it's best to investigate these things thoroughly."  
  
‘These… things?’  
  
‘Yeah, love, these things. All the amazing things we do to and for each other."  
  
Sherlock kissed his way down to John’s nipple around which he bit lightly, his hands moving up to join the exploration. ‘Like this, for example?’ He pinched the tender erect flesh before kissing it better. ‘Or this?’  
  
Hissing in pleasure he chuckled breathlessly. "Mm... Yeah... Both of those actually. Very good. Very good."  
  
‘I see...’ he commented as he continued lavishing hungry kisses and nipping at John’s torso. ‘Muscular,’ he appreciated, wrapping a leg over John’s waist as his hands roamed on John’s body. ‘What should I do next...’ he wondered aloud, contemplating his partner’s naked body and proud gloriousness.  
  
John smiled. "Mm... considering I'm completely at your mercy, anything you can think of in that great big wonderful brain of yours..."  
  
‘Mh. My big wonderful brain is telling me that we should behave. However, another big part of me is very much interested in _not_ listening to what reason is saying and completely in favour of exploring this situation. I’ll bow to reason for one thing,’ he continued bending over John. ‘No… invasion,’ he breathed against John’s lips. ‘Apart from your mouth. And mine.’  
  
Kissing him slowly he smiled. "Mm yeah, save it for later. After all you still deserve a reward for dragging out here at this hour. Going to make it up to you."  
  
‘I do, don’t I?’ he smiled eyes burning with a passion as he rocked his hips against John’s. ‘Delicious,’ he rasped as he grasped John’s arm in a hand and entwined his fingers with the other, trailing hot kisses against his neck. ‘Permission to explore further south?’ he enquired after a time.  
  
Panting John nodded swallowing thickly in an attempt to get his voice working again. "Yes, love, please. Anything you want. Love how you feel, love feeling you. I'm never going to get enough of you, Sherlock. Not ever."  
  
‘Neither am I, John. Neither am I,’ he assured him, letting go of his arm and caressing, fondling at his body as he slowly went down, kissing him all over alternating with licking stripes and blowing on them. ‘Oh. I think I’ll follow that trail. Looks interesting,’ he commented, following the trail of blond hairs under John’s navel with a finger.  
  
John squirmed with a soft laugh. "Mm ticklish. Especially when you're doing things like that... But yeah, please, follow away. See what you find..."  
  
‘Of course you would be,’ he noted idly. ‘What have we got here…?’ he continued kissing in the crook of John’s hips, softly ringing his fingers around John’s flushed cock. ‘I wonder...’ he trailed off, breathing open kisses closer to John’s groin. He looked up, linking his eyes with John’s dazed ones.  
  
Moaning softly he looked down at Sherlock. "Love you so much... You wonder about what, love? So perfect. Just look at you..." Running his hand through Sherlock's soft curls he smiled. "Gotta admit there's something more than a bit thrilling about this…"  
  
‘Ever the thrill-seeker… Wondered if, given your extremely positive reaction to my biting earlier, you’d elicit the same enthusiasm at me scraping my teeth there,’ he replied softly worrying at the delicate flesh so very near John’s cock, slowly moving his loose grip on it up and down.  
  
Gritting his teeth hard enough for his jaw to creak he nodded finally breathing. "Yeah... Yeah... I'm sure I'd like it. But I'm gonna like whatever you do because it's you..."  
  
Sherlock nodded and kissed the flesh he’d been teething at. ‘I’ll make sure you enjoy it,’ he promised, making a tighter circle of his fingers around John as he carried on his movements now and then punctuated with a twist of the wrist, aiming at either dulling John’s discomfort if it arose or increase his pleasure. He grazed his teeth against John’s pubic area, biting ever so softly.  
  
"Sherlock Holmes, you will be the death of me... And I would die a very happy man," he snickered at his own joke. Hips arching he moaned. "Just like that, love. Perfect."   
  
‘A _petite mort_ is certainly what I expect you to experience,’ he replied before changing location and biting softly on the left side of John’s groin. ‘I can’t determine what you enjoy the most… my teeth or my hand?’ he wondered. ‘In any case you’ll be rewarded for your patience – I’m feeling hungry and there happens to be something utterly mouth-watering in my hand,’ he added placing a warm hand on John’s balls.  
  
John huffed a breathless laugh moaning. "Tell me you did not just make that joke....." He shook his head with a fond smile. "If I'd known you were going to be like this, I would have made a move a very long time ago. Probably would have pressed my luck a bit more the first night at Angelo's."  
  
'What joke...?' he asked in a confused tone. 'Everything with a passion when I set my mind to it. Or my body, in this case,' he kissed the side of John's cock, licking all the way up to its engorged glans.

John shook his head with a moan. "Mm... Never mind... Just... yeah, that, that's _very_ good...” He loved that Sherlock didn't always get a reference or joke. It was incredibly endearing.  
  
Sherlock's hand cupping John's sack moved to knead at the muscle on the inside of his thigh while he kept the steady up-and-down movement with a twist with the other. He licked the head of John's cock, tongue toying at the slit before heading downwards to lavish attention to the crown. He looked up again, his own eyes dazed with lust and passion. 'More...?' he asked in a heady whisper.  
  
"Sherlock... Fuck..." He moaned deeply. "God yes, more," he managed to nod. Running his hand through Sherlock's curls he watched him. "God you're amazing..."  
  
Sherlock nodded, humming his appreciation as he engulfed John's cock, tongue rolling up and down around his shaft as he kept his hands moving along.  
  
"Don't know how you got so good but I'm glad you are..." He moaned deeply hips arching into his hand.  
  
Humming again, Sherlock hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder for a moment before letting go and licking down John's cock, tracing a hot trail to his balls. His kneading hand returned to the fragile jewels, cupping them lightly as he kissed them and sucked each ball softly in.  
  
John gripped the sheets knuckles white. Of course Sherlock was incredible at this. "Best mouth ever... Best ever..." He'd never had such an intense blow job in his life.  
  
Witnessing the effect he had on John was something he had not envisaged often and which caught him by surprise. Granted, he might not be as surprised when time has passed and they've been with each other long enough to get used to it, but in this moment he was full to the brim with love, lust and more than a pinch of pride at being able to render John so utterly... wanton.  
  
'Better get used to it,' Sherlock commented, his hand leaving John's cock to grasp at his hand and entwine their fingers together. 'I don't intend on stopping,' he kissed the inside of his thigh, nipping at it occasionally.  
  
"Not sure I will ever get used to it. Not that I mind at all. Never will. Promise that." John moaned deeply. "So lucky to have you." He gently scratched at his scalp.  
  
‘Won’t leave you with an enormous amount of choice,’ he replied, a soft groan escaping his lips at John’s scratching his scalp. ‘Mh, shall I take that display as incentive to return to base?’ he asked in a sultry voice. ‘I adore feeling your fingers in my hair.’  
  
"Well I happen to adore your hair. Especially how responsive you are to the slightest touch of my fingers in it. You can do whatever you want or feel I'd like. I'm going to love anything you do." He nodded eyes a bit glazed.  
  
'Hm don't stop. You don't have to be so careful right now. John, I want you to pull my hair,' he said tentatively. 'Softly at first, though, please.' He kissed his way back to John's erect prick and repeated the moves of his tongue in a haphazard pattern. He brought his hand upwards to accompany the movements of his head, stimulating what he couldn't with a tight ring of his finders around John's cock and a firm twist of the wrist now and then.  
  
"I know you have a sensitive scalp, love. Promise I won't pull too hard. Wouldn't want to do something that hurt you." He nodded fingers massaging his scalp. "Mm... You have the most incredible mouth. And it's good at so many things..." John panted. "Really should have made a move sooner. Missed out on this for so long…"  
  
Sherlock hummed his assent around John before he pulled out.  
‘Will have to make up for lost time now, won’t we?’ encouraging John to spread his thighs by softly yet firmly pushing against them. ‘Magnificent,’ he commented as he looked on the sight of John’s exposed parts with heat in his gaze before going back down to set his mouth to please John. He lowered a hand to stroke himself gently, obtaining friction against the low-thread sheets was not ideal – and not nearly effective enough. The combination of blowing John, pleasuring himself and having John’s fingers in his hair had him moaning more and more loudly – although he still tried to keep his voice low out of respect for John as they were not at home but at his _sister’s_.  
  
John smiled fingers continuing to comb through Sherlock's hair massaging his scalp and ever so lightly tugging on the dark curls. "You have the most talented mouth... Get up here so I can kiss you." He moaned deeply. Once Sherlock had moved he kissed him deeply hooking a leg around his waist to rub against him slowly. "You are so incredibly sexy..."  
  
Sherlock moaned, under the light pressure of John’s fingers in his hair and on his scalp, under the friction of their cocks rubbing together, under the compliments John paid him, under the touch of his hand on his backside. ‘Oh, you… you know… what you’re... doing to me, don’t you… Talented, sexy... beast of a man… that you are...’ he panted, reaching once more to John’s lips.  
  
John grinned, the hand in Sherlock's hair tugging just a little as he rolled his hips. "Mm seems to me this suits both of us better." If Sherlock wanted to think of him as a sexy beast so be it. He wouldn't argue too much. "So good..."  
  
‘Mh... not going to… argue that point...’ He grinded faster against John. ‘Beautiful...Want you so bad...’  
  
John kissed him slowly. "That so, love? Want you too." Nibbling along his neck he smiled.  
  
‘Ooh yes… John… thhiss is, it’ss… won’t delete…’ he slid his hands against John’s skin to his biceps ‘Sso musscular… my sstrong…’ he trailed off, clenching his hands as he felt the slightest shiver buiding up inside him. ‘Jusst you, tonight… my love,’ he declared after a time. ‘Let me worship you...’  
  
"You better not delete any of this," he scolded gently. "I would be _very_ upset if you did." Kissing him slowly he gave a half shrug. "I manage to stay in shape running around after Rosie. Not like I've got any time to go to a gym or anything." Shaking his head he chuckled. "But as long as you think so, that's fine. And yeah, just us tonight. Just us."  
  
‘Told you I wouldn’t...’ Sherlock reminded him in a breath. ‘Esssential, of paramount importancce,’ he elaborated somewhat. ‘Exhibit your body to... _othhers_? I’ll have one… built at home,’ he declared, possessiveness flaring. ‘More practical that way,’ he justified, trying to cover his jealous streak.  
  
Chuckling John kissed him slowly. "I don't need a gym. Never liked 'em anyway. I stay fit enough chasing after Rosie. And you." He kissed Sherlock slowly. "Don't care what anyone else thinks. Just you. That's all. And possessive, much? Not that I mind. Kind of like it."  
  
A blush spread on Sherlock’s face. ‘I’ve no idea... what you’re referring to. You don’t need... to run after me,’ he replied a slight frown forming on his face.  
  
John laughed softly kissing his flushed cheeks and pouting lips. "When you're chasing after a criminal on those impossibly long gazelle legs of yours, yeah, I do. Because you're not looking out for yourself."  
  
‘Please...’ Sherlock’s huff almost drowned out by his panting and moaning. ‘It’ss been ages ssince… we’ve had a run… ssuch as that,’ he countered. ‘If you thhink you need… exercise, I’ll get you… on a horse,’ he teased.  
  
"Mm there's only one thing I'm interested in riding… And it's _not_ a horse..." he smirked kissing along his neck and nibbling teasingly. "And you know a case will come along and I will be chasing after you again," he smirked.  
  
‘Mm, yess, I know… Well on your way… to become a proficient rider, too...’ he complimented, leaning his neck against John’s teasing mouth.  
  
John chuckled deeply as he nuzzled and kissed along Sherlock's neck. "Ohhh you don't think I'm already proficient enough?" he teased with a smirk. "Must be getting rusty. Going to have to brush up on my skills. Out of practice for too long. Guess we're going to have to find a way to get me some more practice, aren't we."  
  
Sherlock froze as his own words registered - he hadn't implied... 'John, I... Didn't... Oooh, yes... I'll never be opposed to... Practising more...'  
  
Chuckling deeply he kissed him eagerly. "Mm doesn't matter if you intended to imply it or not. More practice is never a bad thing. At least that's what my clarinet teacher always told me. Not that it helped much."  
  
'Clarinet, really...? Care to show me your skills?'  
  
Smirking he kissed him slowly. "Mm don't know if you want that... I was terrible at it... My finger work wasn't very good." He teased him lightly scratching Sherlock's scalp.  
  
Sherlock moaned. 'Mm, John... Please... I insist... Besides, it also requires a mouth... Playing the clarinet...'  
  
"Mm wasn't very good at that part either. My tongue kept getting in the way of things..." He smirked licking along Sherlock's neck slowly. "Just never quite got the hang of it..."  
  
'Your tongue... Wouldn't be getting in the way of things... Clearly you need a teacher who knows his subject... Show me... I'll guide you... If you really need to... Please...'  
  
"Mm we'll see how much guidance I need." He winked at him kissing teasingly along his neck and chest, hands sliding teasingly over him.  
  
'Jawn...' he pleaded, moaning under John's hands and mouth as he rolled over, arms outstretched and legs spread apart. 'Please...'  
  
"Mm so nice when you ask me..." He smiled hands sliding over him slowly. "So gorgeous when you're all stretched out like this." Wrapping his hand around Sherlock's cock he licked slowly with a soft hum. "Mm..."  
  
Sherlock inhaled sharply as he felt John touching him, licking. He closed his eyes for the impending pleasure of John's warm mouth around him.  
'Oh, John,' he put an arm over his face. 'Your tongue... Won't get in the way of things... Don't be shy...'  
  
"Mm let's hope it won't get in the way. So far so good, right." He smirked with a wink as he licked slowly stroking him. "I think I'm remembering..."  
  
'Offf course... Remembering right... Can you... Main course...? Please... Your mouth...'  
  
"Main course." He raised a brow with a teasing smirk. "Mm I see. This is what you want?" Stroking slowly he gave a long, slow lick to tease him.  
  
'Mm more, please. Please,' he begged, arching up his hips, his hands falling onto John's head, his fingers gently trading through John's hair.  
  
Moaning deeply John licked and sucked lazily as he stroked lightly nudging into his hand. Twice. Sherlock had asked (_begged_!) _twice_! A day to mark on the calendar. No one else would believe it. If he were to tell that to anyone, that is.  
  
'Ooh, that's it, John... Take me... Please...' he breathed.  
  
"Mm and now we're up to 'please'. Mm well I think since you've been so very nice. You do deserve it for getting out of bed and coming all this way so early in the morning. Just give me a minute." Reaching over the side of the bed he dug through his pockets finding a small packet of lube. "There we are. Knew I had one in there somewhere. Because someone slipped it in my pocket." Kissing him slowly he opened the packet. "Just look at you."  
  
'I'm sure you won't... Need it,' Sherlock protested, his superior brain clearly not adding everything up.  
"Mmm well we'll see..." He smirked making sure that Sherlock was slick and open. "You're going to have to be quiet, love. Quieter than usual. If you're not, I'm going to stop." The warning carried just a hint of Captain Watson giving an order.  
  
'John?' he asked, not quite sure John really was in the mood for that particular type of relations. 'We can... I can be quiet... But we can... If...'  
  
John kissed him slowly with a slight smile. "Shhh sorry, love, sorry... Just... I'd rather not have Harry teasing me endlessly. And knowing her, in public. And just not polite... You know..." He chuckled softly resting his forehead against Sherlock's. "Siblings, you know..."  
  
'I... See your point... Was that... An order, just then...?' he wondered out loud. 'You know I am... I can be... Good at following orders... Sir.'  
  
"I know you can be, love. I know. You can be so good at following orders. I know. Wasn't an order. No. No. Didn't mean for it to sound like one. A... request. Please." He murmured softly. "Not the time, not the place. Sorry love..." He kissed him slowly.  
  
'Not the time,' Sherlock echoed in a whisper, their breaths mingled as he trailed his hands along John's sides, slightly rocking his hips.  
  
Moaning softly John nuzzled along his neck kissing and nipping softly. "Another time, another place. Not now." Sliding his hands over him slowly he slid into him carefully.  
  
Sherlock breathed in as John breached into him, reflexively clenching his muscles and hands around John.  
  
"Love you," John murmured moving slowly nuzzling along his neck. "Love you so much. Best thing in my life. You and Rosie and home." Running his hand through Sherlock's curls he smiled softly. "You're so gorgeous."  
  
'John... Sso good to... Have you inside me... Love you so much...,' he whispered, keeping his voice low as his body undulated along with John's slow, careful movements. 'Mm, yours,' he added.  
  
John smiled softly. "All mine, all yours. Always how it was supposed to be. So glad we've got each other now. Never letting you go. Love everything about being yours and having you as mine. Finally got things right. Love you. Always going to love you."  
  
‘Certainly… hope so, John’, Sherlock replied before soon getting lost in the sensations of John filling him again.  
He’d belonged to John since he’d realised how far his loyalty went on their first case together but he hadn’t immediately recognised it for what it was, neither on his nor John’s end – and John was right, they’d always love each other, each the protector of the other’s heart.  
  
John moved slowly, purposely inside Sherlock, keeping his movements measured so that their bed didn’t make noise to give them away – Lord knew how hard it was for _Sherlock _not to make any such noises; John was resolute to do everything he could so that they could avoid anything incriminating – but keeping them sensual and deep enough with occasional deeper and stronger thrusts for both him and Sherlock to enjoy.  
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, limbs entangled under the warmth of the covers and the quilt of the small bed the unassuming guest room offered.  
  


***  
  


John gave Clara's arm a reassuring squeeze.   
"Just tell them the truth. Let Sherlock handle the rest. We'll have this cleared up by noon. Whatever he says, just let him say it. He'll take care of everything. You know you're innocent and he'll prove it."  
  
She smiled thinly, nodding minutely, anxiety extremely present despite the reassurance John gave her by his words and Harry by her presence.  
  
Sherlock was already going up and down the various offices in the hospital Clara worked, stopping here and there to pay particular attention to a detail or another, gathering data he knew the police as well as Clara's employer would ask for - it was dull, so obvious and staring them all in the face but they needed _proof_.  
  
"You've been here for years, and have no reasons to steal money. It's going to be fine," he promised gently. "I know it'll come through that you had nothing to do with any of this."  
  


Sherlock walked up to the officer in charge, DS Dawson, a portly man senior to Greg by his age only. His grey trench coat hid his shaking fingers and his creased shirt chosen at random in his wardrobe, indications that he was not too happy with having had to allow Sherlock on the investigation, waking up extra early to answer a call from Scotland Yard and preparing everything he could think of.   
Coming close to him with a swirl of his beloved Belstaff, Sherlock saw Dawson's pupils constrict, nostrils flaring as he shuffled on his feet, taking a step back, and smellt an odour of alcohol around him, drowning that of the disgusting coffee he had at his workplace. Sherlock scrunched up his nose in barely disguised contempt.   
'Show me Mr Molding's office again. And listen closely to everything I tell you. Write it down or better yet record it, I detest repetition. I assume you now have the papers establishing Ms Wyndham's culpability. Bring them to me, and be ready to draw new ones,' he all but barked at the police officer.  
  
Dawson bristled at Sherlock's barked orders and snide, condescending attitude. "I have no intention of changing anything. Everything points to her. I don't care who you are, who you know, this isn't London. We do things by the book to the letter here," he growled.  
  
John suppressed a smile. This was not going to go well. At all. He almost felt sorry for Dawson. Almost. Not near enough to suggest to Sherlock he should be polite.  
  
Sherlock towered over him, looking down on the man in front of him, a small, vicious smile on his lips.   
'I could hardly care less whether you have the intention of making any changes to the charges Ms Wyndham faces. I am _telling_ you that you _will_,' he answered in a smooth haughty, imperious voice. 'As for doing things by the book, Sergeant, I doubt that any of the manuals used for teaching police officers their job encourages them to wear undistinguished, too large clothes that only demonstrate how little they value their job - or enjoy it, for that matter.' He ostensibly sniffed the air around them. 'I would also be most surprised to learn it was required to come to their workplace under the influence,' he sniffed again with evident distaste.  
  
Harry blinked. "Bloody hell, Johnny, I thought you were exaggerating things..."  
  
Smiling a bit John shook his head. "If anything I smoothed out the rougher edges. He doesn't handle blatant stupidity well. At all, actually. I won't say a word unless he crosses a line. So far he hasn't. Just hope we can avoid getting arrested. Again."  
  
Dawson glared at Sherlock. "You'd smell of booze too if the only relatively clean thing you had to wear was what you'd had on breaking up a fight in a pub. And the paperwork's not changing. Don't know why she's not in chains right now," he glared at Clara with a sneer, bristling more at Harry's protective arm around her shoulders.  
  
Sherlock sniffed the air again, taking in the seconds Dawson stopped to glare at the women behind him. 'Ah, the imbecilic homophobic alpha male scent. You haven't got the slightest idea that you're not living under Margaret Thatcher's prime ministerial rule or how to break a brawl in a public house without physically involving yourself, do you?' he sneered while Clara was watching, silent and terrified pressing herself against Harry.  
'Now then, _sir_,' Sherlock continued contempt dripping in his voice, 'let me show you _why_ you are lazy, incompetent and far from being even remotely clever enough to heed good advice for fear of being emasculated.' He held up his index finger. 'First, you are lazy because you clearly depend on old-fashioned rules and laws to dictate your life and opinions instead of thinking for yourself,' he gestured in the general direction of Harry and Clara. 'Neither should it be dismissed that you are still a sergeant despite being well advanced in years - and you clearly resent this fact because you'd rather do paperwork than go on the field and see scums on the streets - or working in hospitals. But your laziness and stupidity are connected - were you to put a bit of effort in you might not be stuck in the hateful position you find yourself in.  
Second, you are incompetent because the solution to this case is so obvious a 2-year-old could solve it with her wits tied behind her back. You concur, do you not John, that if Rosie were presented with such a "case" she would laugh at its simplicity and demand a cup of tea and a proper case to stimulate her intellect?'  
Sherlock did not wait for John to answer or Harry to be somewhat outraged that he'd use police cases to teach Rosie and ploughed on. 'I've already established your poor work ethics but they'll be emphasised by your dismissal of the extremely good advice you received this morning. You are aware that a Detective Inspector - who would be made Chief Detective Inspector if he so desired and deemed the field to be too much for him and too dangerous - has a higher rank than you have thus showing his brightness, thus clearly establishing that it would be in your best interests to heed the _advice_ he gave you.  
You'll also be familiar with the fact that the higher ranks in the police of Scotland Yard are meticulously handpicked, much more so than in lowly police stations.  
It is then evident that the _advice _the Detective Inspector gave you ought to have been heeded immediately, especially if you take into account that I have worked with this man for the last ten years: not only does he know me but we also worked together - and continue doing so. And last but not least, as you are so obviously attached to doing things by the book, let me tell you that I have been made to sit in and peruse the proper ways of police investigation. I know how it works.  
Now would you mind, sir, showing me to Mr Molding's office, please?' he concluded his razor sharp gaze still focussed on him, the tone of his voice dripping once more with scorn.  
  
John put a light hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, he's not worth it. You know you'll never change the minds of people like him. If you react, you're just confirming what they think they know. Let Sherlock handle this. If need be, we'll call Greg and have him tear into that worthless excuse for a human over there. And if _that_ fails, then I'm sure that a quick text to Anthea and she'll have all his tax records pulled up and see just how many shortcuts and outright _lies_ he's put on there." John snorted. "Sherlock knows exactly what he's doing. This isn't the first time we've run into this sort of thing. I promise you he knows what he's doing."  
  
Dawson glared at Sherlock. "Don't see why I should let you look in there. That kid barely knows his arse from a hole in the ground. He was just trying to get a bit of work experience on his resume. That woman's got every reason to take the money for herself."  
  
Clara stood shivering under the accusations of the representative of the police force. 'I do _not_' she refuted in a shaky whisper full of anger at the obvious unfairness and discrimination of it all.  
  
'Ms Wyndham, please refrain from saying anything else,' Sherlock gently rebuked her in a soothing voice.  
'While you,' he continued, addressing Dawson, 'quite obviously, do know the difference. Although in your case I believe the difference between these two is not that evident. As to why you should let me in here, _sergeant_... I imagine you wouldn't want to arrest the wrong person. Ms Wyndham has been working here for - 13 years, wasn't it Clara? and has never proven to be anything but a caring, devoted and conscientious employee whose contract has been running indefinitely for three years. This Josh Molding character who, as you said, was merely looking for experience to put on his resume, has disappeared _even before his contract ended_. Or what would later be forged as a contract - you don't need to have one for someone you don't pay, do you? Ms Wyndham would be sacked on the spot and a bad reference would be made to her character thus preventing her from finding further employ whereas this man would... Well, nothing would happen to him: having no contract makes him untraceable administratively speaking and as someone who worked for the IT department, I imagine it would be the easiest thing to do to erase all signs of his presence anywhere. What motive could she have to take the money for herself?' he concluded, turning to Clara. 'She had absolutely nothing to gain out of this.'  
  
Harry kept her arm around Clara giving her a gentle kiss on the temple. "Hadn't thought of all that. He really is quite brilliant, Johnny. You got a good one."   
John nodded eyes glowing with pride at Sherlock's performance.  
  
Dawson grumbled reluctantly opening the tiny door to the broom closet that served as Josh's office. "Don't touch anything. I'm watching you. Not like you're going to find anything. It's empty. Just a desk, chair, computer that's not hooked up to anything, and a filing cabinet. My team's already been through here. Twice." He rocked a bit on his feet. "They may not be your fancy Scotland Yard, but they're well trained. They know their job and their place. Unlike some people." He raked his eyes over Sherlock with a sneer before shooting another glare at Harry and Clara.  
  
John coughed to hide a laugh. "God, I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. This should be entertaining."  
  
‘This ought to have been your first clue that something was wrong,’ Sherlock said derisively. ‘Know their job, hm?’ he muttered under his breath, loud enough to be heard anyway. ‘IT. In a _broom closet_. With a computer that is _not even plugged in_. Now if this Mr Molding was not hiding… Who in their right mind has people working from broom closets? A closet, as I’m sure you know, is the first place where people hide. From spouses, from players, from society, from the _police_ – for safety and discretion.’ Sherlock shook his head, brushing his clothed fingers over the desk, noticing the regular layer of dust that had not been disturbed in several days. He crouched on the floor, looking at the desk and its drawers, opening one after the other and smirked. He turned around, pointing. ‘That filing cabinet has not even been used. At all. The desk has seen little work but there’s a definite imprint on the carpeting – highly suggestive that Mr Molding was essentially working on the floor. As an I.T. worker he had a laptop at his disposal, one which required frequent charging if we’re to look at the use of the sockets. John, dear, can you help me, please? I need to… but the mechanism is jammed, it’s going to require stealth, strength and two people,’ he called, deliberately placing his hand on John’s thigh as he knelt beside him.  
  
"Always ready to lend a hand, love," John smirked with a slight emphasis on hand.  
  
‘Thank you. Such a helping hand,’ he commented with a smirk of his own.  
John took a small multi tool from his pocket and found the correct screwdriver head. "Hm I think this might be one of those fake sockets. Why have two in such a small room right beside each other. If he needed more outlets, a couple power strips would have worked just as well."  
  
‘It is puzzling, isn’t it? Now what _could_ be the use of a fake socket, I wonder. It’s not as if it were a frequent happening, after all. I suppose it occurred to your team of professional people who looked at the room _twice_ that there was something out of the ordinary in here,’ he addressed Dawson.  
  
"Small room. IT people need more places to charge stuff. Easier to put a second socket by the fort than run wiring all over," Dawson shrugged glaring at Sherlock and John's open display of affection.  
  
John rolled his eyes clearly willing to let Sherlock tear the man apart. "Oh perfect sense considering we're right next to Clara's office and they share this wall. Convenient," he declared. "And what do we say about coincidences, love?" He cocked his head fingers giving Sherlock's leg a squeeze.  
  
‘The universe is rarely so lazy so there are no such things as coincidences, but I don’t think the man had joined the dots and come to that conclusion in all his professional years, darling. I do hope it’s not too much of a disappointment for you’ Sherlock addressed Dawson, taking the so-called socket out of the wall, revealing a safe encased in it. ‘It does seem like a decent hiding place, does it not? Especially as the police cannot be bothered to look at everything in such a crammed room. They’d rather rely on their assumptions and prejudice to designate a scapegoat – who was rather well-framed if one disregards the simplicity of the foil, might I add,’ he commented from the floor before turning towards John and producing an aluminium packet of lube. He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Now I know that it’s not its proper use, my sweet, but I want to get to the bottom of things.’  
  
Clara sniggered despite being anxious – the situation was indeed amusing and she felt relieved that Sherlock was helping her, not only by disproving all the so-called evidence the police had against her but also by placing the sergeant in an uncomfortable position, heavily playing on his and John’s relationship, calling Dawson out on his homophobic side as she was certain that Sherlock was not one who would normally demonstrate his affections so openly.  
  
John shrugged and gave an overly dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose that needs must... It _is_ a bit of an emergency. I'm sure we can get some more packets before we head home. They are bloody convenient to have on hand," he smirked at Sherlock with a raised brow. John carefully pulled out the small safe and opened it. "Mm would you look at that... Fake IDs, passports, bank account information from several other countries. But, yes, of course Clara went to all the trouble to put this here and frame Josh." He rolled his eyes. "Like you said, love, I'm pretty sure even Rosie could have figured this one out." He shook his head.  
  
‘Quite, darling. This is deplorable, the abilities of the police are very limited,’ Sherlock complained. ‘Still, sergeant, what would the book recommend the course of action be in the presence of new evidence?’ he asked mockingly.  
  
Dawson sighed keeping as much distance between himself and Sherlock as possible, as if he was afraid of being contaminated. "I suppose I'll have to call the team in for another look around..." he grumbled clearly not happy with the situation.  
  
Sherlock stood up, standing close to John as he dusted imaginary residue from his trousers. ‘Good sergeant,’ he complimented in the same mocking tone. ‘May I suggest you call them in now? It is rather a pressing matter for Ms Wyndham and her partner who have something to plan, and Doctor Watson and myself have other business to attend to, don’t we darling?’ he bent over to plant a soft kiss on John’s cheek.  
  
John snickered slipping his arm around Sherlock's waist and nuzzling his cheek. "Mm that we do. And a little someone will be up soon. She'll be expecting a Skype call from Daddy and Papa. And she'll have to say hello to her favourite aunties since she didn't come with us this trip," he smiled. "We'll probably catch hell from her for that but a promise to bring her next time," he laughed checking his phone and making sure Dawson got a look at the screen with a picture of the three of them and Sultan looking every bit the perfect happy family.  
  
Sherlock hummed appreciatively at John’s display of affection and showing their happy, same sex parental family with Rosie sporting an enormous smile for all to see – especially the narrow-minded, judgmental Dawson. ‘So you see, it would be rather nice for everyone involved if you were to speed things up,’ Sherlock concluded in an unctuous voice.  
  
"Fine. Just none of you go anywhere, leave town, any of that. I don't care who you know," he growled glaring at all of them. "And when I call you better answer and show up at the station."  
  
‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘It would be counterproductive to ask for speed and efficiency to only impediment any progress, wouldn’t it? I’m glad we’re seeing eye to eye, of sorts. Well, if you’ll excuse us,’ he said taking his mobile phone out of his pocket, ‘our daughter will be expecting us to call,’ he added, taking John’s hand and leading him towards the door.  
  


The four of them exited the room and regrouped outside. John smiled. "We should take Rosie a little something to make up for leaving her behind."  
  
Harry chuckled. "A friend of ours has a little shop where she sells children's things. I'm sure you'll find something for my niece." She smiled at Sherlock. "That was nicely done by the way. I had a feeling he was targeting Clara."  
  
Sherlock nodded his thanks. ‘We will go and have a look at your friend’s shop, then. I’m certain Rosie will be thrilled to know that her aunt recommended it to us. After she’s done sulking because we left her behind, of course. I’m sure you’ve noticed that anyone who is even slightly different from the norm will provide an excellent target as a scapegoat,’ he added in a dejected tone. ‘Clara is not the first nor is she the last to be subject to investigation because she happens to have different inclinations from the majority of the population, thus providing a valid reason for being a suspect. In their eyes, anyway.’

"Well he can pick on someone else," Harry growled. "Clara's done nothing but work herself into exhaustion for them and always gone above and beyond what they ask."

John nodded. "I know she has. And this won't stick. Sherlock's already proven it." He looked at Sherlock with a smirk. "Did you see him go pale when I mentioned his taxes?"

‘He certainly should. I’m afraid that’s our burden, until such a time comes that the majority opens its eyes and realises how wrong they are. As John told you,’ he added in a reassuring tone, ‘the police will have to drop the charges against Clara. What “evidence” they had was based on discrimination and flimsy proof, nothing that could ever hold in front of anyone with a modicum of common sense not to mention court. Rest assured all will be well. It is only a matter of time,’ he commented in a soft, sure voice before turning towards John, eyebrow raised in surprise. ‘Oh so _that’s_ why he was even more antagonistic and reluctant to let me examine the closet. I’m afraid I didn’t hear what you said busy as I was to bring his illogical arguments down – but I think you’ll forgive me for being so… standoffish, for this once? That little comment of yours was exactly what helped my words have any kind of impact,’ he complimented in a proud voice.

John smiled kissing his cheek. "If course I forgive you. He's a complete waste of air and space. When it's someone like that I am more than ok with you putting them in their place," he squeezed Sherlock's hand. "The tax thing was a shot in the dark. I'm just happy it landed."

Sherlock nodded and pressed John’s hand, a smile on his lips.

‘Thank you so much, both of you. I’m sure you realise just how important it is for me, for me and Harry I should say, that I keep that job… To know why that slimy thief framed me and that the police believed him without even looking into anything… Thank you, really. I’m not sure what I can do to show you how grateful I am, we are. If there’s anything you need you _must_ come to me, I’ll do my best to help you.’ Clara’s voice was shaking slightly with the emotion she felt, overwhelmed that she was by the whole ordeal – even if she was out of the woods didn’t mean that she’d registered it quite completely.

Harry smiled putting an arm around her. "Well they can let us spoil Rosie completely rotten and that'll be a good start. We'll be happy to come babysit any time or even bring her for an overnight stay or over a weekend. Sultan too, of course." She smiled gently at Clara. "And my guess is he framed you because you were convenient and I know you were nice to him and tried to be helpful. Those are among the many reasons I love you,' she kissed her cheek.

John smiled more than happy to see things going well. Maybe this would help cement their relationship. Of course there would still be bumps in the road but maybe they'd get through it all together. "You know you're more than welcome to come visit any time. Mrs Hudson would love to meet you both and Rosie would love a day with her aunties. We'll work our way up to her spending the night away. Right now it's more me worrying than her not wanting to," he chuckled.

‘On that last point I agree – Rosie is most definitely inclined to see more of her aunts, as she is to see every other member of her family,’ he concurred. ‘Everyone spoils her on the grounds that she’s their only niece or granddaughter depending on who is speaking, you will have to go the extra mile to _really_ spoil her rotten.’

‘But not too much because something tells me that’s _your _area,’ Clara teased. ‘I’m sure you’re even more prone to dote on her and keep her close than John is,’ she added mischief in her eyes.

John laughed. "Those two get into quite a bit of mischief when I'm at the clinic. I get these interesting messages about their adventures at the park or doing chemistry experiments. I'm sure the adventures will be even more exciting with Sultan involved now."

‘Well, another pair of eyes to spot features of interest which I’m sure Rosie will love,’ Sherlock replied. ‘I resent the implication that I didn’t do well enough,’ Sherlock replied sulkily. ‘As for the adventures we have… it’s hardly mischief, John. We need to keep her entertained and stimulated – I for one would despise that she became complacent like so many members of the human race.’

John smiled. "Love, you do an amazing job with her. I love getting your messages about what the two of you are up to during the day. It's incredibly important to keep her active and stimulated. And even more important that you always answer her questions. You never talk down to her like most adults do with children. You take the time to explain things in a way she can understand while acknowledging she's intelligent."

‘How else is she supposed to learn if her questions are either left unanswered or answered with insufficient explanation, if any? She is too intelligent not to notice that someone would try and dumb their speech.’

‘By the sound of it you’re unlikely to let her go to a regular school. John’s right, though. From what I hear, you’re doing a tremendous job. Let us spoil her a bit though, alright? Harry and I will be delighted to have her, even if only for a day. That way you can go and have your own adventures,’ she giggled.

John chuckled. "More like spend the day in the lab or chasing a criminal all over London. But I know she'd love spending the day with the two of you. Just plan on whatever you do to have Sultan go along. We haven't even thought of schools yet. No reason to when my schedule's flexible and Sherlock is amazing with her. He's already doing so much with her. Letters, numbers, colours, words, everything you can think of. She's already far ahead of most kids her age. Not surprising when she's got Sherlock seeing to her early education." He smiled up at Sherlock. "No one else I'd rather her be with."

‘I should hope so,’ he replied with a smile of his own.

‘Oh I wasn’t suggesting…Oh, well,’ she shrugged. ‘It would be a bit counterproductive to seriously think about schools with so much quality involvement. Not sure about developing social skills though but as long as you don’t wait too long… I’ll give you the contact details of a few ones if you’re both okay with that,’ she offered.

John smiled. "We're going to get her in some play groups, things like library story time and playing with kids at the park. We appreciate any advice," he explained and squeezed Sherlock's hand.

‘I bet that’s as much as you’re willing to concede to, isn’t it Sherlock?’

‘Obviously. I did just fine with parents of average intelligence until they deemed it a good idea to put me in school. I don’t see why it would be any less good for Rosie.’

John laughed. "Average intelligence? Your parents? Sherlock, your mother is a maths genius who's written _several_ books and your dad knows just about everything there is to know about music and literature, especially poetry. Average my arse," he snorted shaking his head. "You'll love them," he promised Harry and Clara. "They're incredibly sweet."

‘Average intelligence when compared to mine. And Mycroft's,’ he grudgingly added. ‘Besides, you said yourself the first time you met them that wasn’t how you pictured them because they were so “ordinary”. As for writing maths… Well, I suppose she is a genius in _that_ particular field.’

‘That your parents are _still_ incredibly sweet after what must have been a challenge…They must have the patience of saints, raising you up.’

‘What exactly have you heard? More to the point, Harry, what did you tell her?’ he asked, a tremor of worry in his voice.

Harry waved a hand "I've only repeated what John's told me. That you and your brother were a handful as kids. And you had a few chemistry experiments go awry. I'm sure they're just as amazing and wonderful as John says."

‘Well, I hate to say this but apart from that, the way you’re described in the press…’

‘Please, don’t.’

‘I won’t,’ she replied in a calm voice. ‘I’ve got a feeling that you’re not too keen on them as a whole. And to get back to what we were saying – can we invite your parents to our wedding?’

Sherlock looked at John, unsure of how to answer to that. Unsure whether he wanted his parents to attend a Watson’s wedding when it wasn’t John’s. _Where did that come from?_

John snorted. "The press has no idea who Sherlock really is or the things he does. They're just looking to make money." He smiled up at Sherlock. "We can extend the invitation and see if they want to come. It's sweet of you to think to invite them."

‘Oh, please do,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll be happy to meet them. Besides, bit of a rehearsal for everyone involved, right?’

‘Oh, er, um, I, er,’ Sherlock stammered, completely thrown off guard. _What_ is_ happening to me?_

John blinked several times giving Sherlock's hand a squeeze. "Let's not put the cart before the horse now. Sherlock and I are just getting things settled. No need to rush anything. We've already got all the legal paperwork out of the way. He's as much Rosie's father as I am. That's the most important thing."

‘Oh dear. I’ve done it again, haven’t I?’ she whispered to Harry. ‘Of course that’s the most important thing of all. You don’t have to do anything of the sort, really. After all, you two've been married forever,’ she added in a chuckle, trying to dispel the anxiety she felt radiating from Sherlock and John. Both men stood straighter, tensing up as memories flowed black. Even though they had been sharing each other’s life for years and had a plethora of good, happy memories the bad ones still had a more prominent place.

John squeezed Sherlock's hand looking up at him with a smile. "Sometimes it feels like it. Sometimes it feels like what we had, what we have, is more real and more solid than what passed for a marriage for Mary and I," he shrugged slightly.

Sherlock squeezed John’s hand back. ‘It is,’ he replied with a small, sincere smile. ‘More often than not, even if I sometimes wonder whether I’m dreaming,’ he added.

‘Aww, Sherlock Holmes is a soft soul in love,’ Clara cooed.

‘I most certainly am not,’ Sherlock’s fierce denial fell short as he stood closer to John, looking through his phone for Mrs Hudson’s contact – they were about to make a Skype call to wish Rosie a good morning, after all. As it always did, seeing Rosie’s picture brought a smile to his face, caused his eyes to crinkle and his heart to clench in happiness. _She is mine_, he thought with wonder.

Leaning into Sherlock John smiled softly looking at the picture of their family. "Yeah you are, love, but that's ok. So'm I. And if you're dreaming then so am I and we're having the same dream. So, tell me, what are the chances of that?"  
  
‘Infinitesimal,’ he replied softly.

"Oh perfect timing!" Mrs Hudson beamed. "We were just thinking of calling you."

Rosie wiggled into the picture. "Hi Daddy! Hi Papa! Me and Sultan had seepover wif Nana."

John chuckled. "You did. Are you having fun?"

‘Hello Rosie, darling. Good morning, Mrs Hudson. I trust everything is well?’  
  
Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Oh they've been good as gold, dear. Not any trouble at all. Well behaved as always. We were just about to make some breakfast."

‘Good, I’m glad they behaved. Rosie always loves to spend time with you but someone told me she can be - I think the word was challenging?’ he replied, scrunching up his nose at the word. ‘You and me both know that whoever said that is a liar, don’t we Rosie?’  
  
Rosie looked up at Mrs. Hudson. "What's challenging?

John smiled. "Something you're not, sweetheart. Promise."

‘Hi Rosie!’ Clara exclaimed even though she knew she couldn’t see the little girl and vice versa.

"Aunty Clara!" Rosie squealed excitedly.

‘Hello, Mrs Hudson! What are you having for breakfast, Rosie? And when can I see my favourite niece? Shh, Harry, she can be _my_ favourite niece, too!’ she giggled as Harry gently elbowed her.

Rosie giggled. "Nana an' me's makin' stawberry scones! I gets to stir!" she proudly informed them.

‘How exciting! Wooden spoon or electric whisk?’  
  
"Spoon." Rosie nodded curls bobbing. "Better for sneakin' tastes from. Nana says that safer an' makes 'em taste yummier."

‘Mrs Hudson didn’t say a word about knowing chemistry. Although it does seem obvious given what I know of Mr Hudson. And your tenant,’ Sherlock mused. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy that,’ he approved. ‘Don’t eat too many, Rosie. You know what your Daddy always says, don’t you? Your Daddy’s motto, if you will. I’ll give you a clue; it has to do with apples, although John Watson proves to be resistant to it.’

Cocking her head in thought she nodded. "Apple a day makes doctor stay 'way. But I don' wan' Daddy t' stay 'way. Not ever."

John smiled. "I don't plan to. Nothing could keep me and Papa away from you. Nothing ever."

‘I did tell you that your Daddy was immune to it, did I not?’ he said, a warm smile on his lips at John’s never ending love.

‘Mrs Hudson, you know what’s right in baking!’ Clara approved.

Mrs Hudson smiled smoothing Rosie's curls. "Well I don't mind using a hand mixer most of the time but with her around stealing a taste now and then I don't want to risk her little fingers getting caught in the beaters. Besides we're having fun stirring."

‘You’re quite right, Mrs Hudson. Safety is paramount. What?’ he interjected as John snorted a laugh. ‘Surely you’re not about to disagree with this, John? Anyway, I hope her Ladyship is not too angry at either of us?’

John smiled. "Not about to disagree. Not a bit."

Rosie giggled. "Miss Daddy and Papa but we's havin' fun. We's gonna make puppy scones too!"

‘We miss you, too. Don’t we, John? Do try not to spoil Sultan too much, darling. Mrs Hudson will tell me and your Daddy if you do,’ he added warningly.

Pouting a bit she hugged Sultan. "Him's a good puppy an' I loves him. Gives 'im lots of good treats."   
  
John smiled. "Of course he is. We just don't want him to get a tummy ache, that's all. And we miss you all. We'll be home later."

‘That we will. I’ve no idea of _when_ precisely but I doubt there’s anything else I can do to help you here, Clara’ he commented, throwing his head in the direction of the closet where they left DS Dawson. ‘If there’s anything, however…’

Harry shook her head. "I doubt he'll cause more trouble now. But if you two'd like to stick around for brunch we'll take you shopping for Rosie. We were waiting to talk to you both about what to get her for Christmas before we got anything."

‘But this is not a conversation for Rosie to hear – where would be the surprise if she knew in advance what… sorry. I know. What do you say though? Stick around?’ Clara asked Sherlock with hope in her eyes.

‘I’m not… very keen on… Food, as it were,’ he started to excuse himself.

John smiled. "You can have a cup of tea. Harry's told me about a very nice little café with excellent tea blends." He squeezed Sherlock's hand gently. It was nice getting to spend time with Harry now that she was clean and sober and probably, hopefully, staying that way.

Rosie frowned. "Help Auntie Clara? Auntie Clara in trouble?" Her lip wobbled slightly with worry.   
  
John hurried to soothe her. "It's all right, sweetheart. She just needed Papa's brain to solve a funny little puzzle. It's all solved now and everything's just fine. Nothing for you to worry about."  
  
Sherlock grumbled, not particularly pleased at the idea of staying longer in Harry and Clara’s company who would undoubtedly speak about feelings, weddings and emotions – which he felt but was far from being comfortable with. He was only now becoming accustomed to these and acknowledging them in John’s presence – but that was the extent to which he’d gone so far.  
  
‘Fine,’ he conceded, unwilling to disappoint John.  
  
Rosie still looked worried despite John's soothing tone and sensible words. He gently nudged Sherlock. "Everything's fine, angel. Papa's got everything sorted out for Aunt Clara."  
  
‘You are not doubting your Papa’s ability to help, are you, darling? This puzzle really was little, of no difficulty whatsoever. You would have found it easy, too darling. Clara is not in trouble anymore,’ Sherlock added in a pacifying voice to his little girl.  
  
Harry smiled watching the two of them. She'd only met Mary briefly and the two had got along about as well as a pair of territorial cats. Sherlock had always had John's admiration and praise. Despite what they'd been through it was clear things were sorting themselves out now.  
  
"Sherlock, if you two need to get home to Rosie, we can swing by the shop real quick and you two can be on your way. We'll be in London soon. Clara's roommate from uni's going to be in town and we're all meeting up for dinner. You and Sherlock could pop in and meet her and her wife since they'll be in the wedding. Just a quick hello. Kate's very eager to meet Rosie since Clara talks about her so much. We could even go to that Italian place you two are always raving about."  
  
‘Thank you, Harry. John? What do you think?’  
  
John smiled. "Hear that Rosie? Aunt Harry and Aunt Clara are coming for a visit. We'll all go out for dinner. That'll be fun. We'll go to Angelo's. Can you believe they've never been there?! You can tell them what's good to eat there. I promise Aunt Clara's little problem is all taken care of."  
  
‘Yes angel. Sherlock’s got it all under control in about half an hour. Had to break things down to the police officer. Didn’t you say that everything was good there, John?’ Clara teased. Next to her Sherlock had gone silent, a subtle cloud over his face that neither Harry nor Clara noted.  
  
John nodded squeezing Sherlock's hand gently. "Papa got everything sorted out. See, Aunt Harry and Aunt Clara were dealing with someone like Anderson. Papa got it all straightened out. Just like he does with Anderson."  
  
‘Indeed. It really is a shame that the police force does not screen its agents more deeply. Admitting they’re in the wrong and having little or no prejudice against people should be a pre-requisite,’ Sherlock remarked. ‘I’ve tried suggesting it to Lestrade but apparently there are procedures and rules to follow.’  
  
‘Of course you did, Sherlock. We must go now, I hear someone’s tummy growling.’  
  
‘Yes, so do I,’ he replied eyeing John and squeezing his hand. ‘We will see you soon, then.’  
  
‘Bye now,’ Mrs Hudson said in a cheerful tone.  
  
Rosie had brightened up a bit, not as worried now. "Bye Daddy! Bye Papa! Bye Aunt Harry! Bye Aunt Clara!" she waved scrambling after a yipping Sultan who was chomping one of his squeaky toys.  
  
‘Goodbye,’ Sherlock disconnected the call and put his phone back in his pocket, a soft smile on his face at his daughter’s innocence.   
  
John laughed learning into Sherlock a bit. "That was nicely done, love. I can tell she feels much better about it all. You don't mind us stopping just for a quick bite? I could do with coffee and a little food."  
  
‘Of course I don’t mind. Unlike me, you would become grumpy if you didn’t have breakfast,’ he teased.  
  
"And that's why we're stopping for tea, coffee for me, and a bite. I don't want to get too grumpy shopping for Rosie," he chuckled. "I'm always going to love how amazing you are with her."  
  
‘We’ll leave you be for breakfast – but please don’t forget to help us for Rosie’s Christmas presents. We’ll meet you in… How long will you need?’  
  
‘Oh, twenty minutes, I should think.’  
  
John smiled. "Twenty's fine. A bit of coffee and a quick bite of something's all I really need. It'll give Sherlock and I a bit to wander about and see the town. It's really as lovely as you've said."  
  
‘I’m glad you like the city,’ Clara grinned.  
  
‘Town.’  
  
‘Sorry?’  
  
‘Town.’  
  
‘Yes, “town”. I hope you’ll consider coming down more often to see us after visiting it a bit.’  
  
‘_Going_ down is more like me, anyway…’ Sherlock started in a whisper, innuendo laced in his voice.  
  
John snorted a giggle lightly elbowing Sherlock. "Yes it's a lovely town. We'll work on coming down for a visit with Rosie and Sultan soon. They'll love it here." He glanced up at Sherlock struggling not to laugh.   
"You're terrible!" he laughed as soon as they were out of sight.  
  
‘I was rather under the impression that you enjoyed it and I was far from being terrible at doing that,’ Sherlock replied smugly, a broad grin on his face.  
  
"You bastard..." John snorted giggling and shaking his head. "Not very nice to get me all wound up with promises like that and then we don't have the time for you to follow through on it at the moment."  
  
‘If there’s something you should know it’s that I’m a man of my word. We could find time. If you were up for it, that is. I’m sure your body could easily go for it – but first my dear John, you need nourishment!’ he exclaimed, linking his arm with John’s and dragging him towards the café.  
  
Still giggling John stumbled a step trying to keep up with Sherlock's much longer strides. "I'd much rather we have time for both of us to enjoy it rather than be rushed. I think I'll survive until we're home and Rosie's down for her nap. For the record, doesn't change that you’re a bastard," he teased.  
  
‘Maybe, but you like that.’  
  
"Yes, yes, you know I do." John smiled up at him giving his hand a squeeze. "And I'll make sure and show you how much I appreciate you doing this. Means the world to me."

‘I can’t say I’m disappointed. I’m relieved John managed to bring Sherlock down here and he sorted things out,’ Clara started as the two men disappeared.  
  
Harry shook her head smiling. "They really are something else. I knew they'd come. There's no way John would let this all happen and not get involved and that obviously meant Sherlock would come along. It's good to see him happy. Never did care for Mary."

‘Did you? I thought given how much… against Sherlock you were when they arrived you didn’t think John would manage to come with him,’ she remarked. ‘Mary… he married her, didn’t he? What do you think _that _was about? Clearly there was no love there. Or if there was I’m certain it wasn’t as bright as what he has with Sherlock. They really are _positively_ radiant together.’  
  
"I was against him. I wasn't sure that he really understood what him being gone had done to Johnny. But I knew if he came, he'd bring Sherlock with him. Mary wasn't good for him. Always subtly undermining him, putting him down. Couldn't stand it. He was forcing himself to be happy because he didn't have Sherlock anymore. I think he just kind of got swept along. At least she won't be around to be an influence on Rosie."  
  
‘And a bad one at that, of course,’ she nodded her agreement. Sherlock does seem to adore her. Although I have to admit I’m slightly concerned, you know. All the innuendoes he makes... I only hope he doesn’t carry on with them while there’s a child present. I don’t think he does. He seems… responsible around John’s girl. Their love for each other is blindingly obvious, I can only wonder what took them so long’ she noted pensively. ‘From what you’ve told me, John’s infatuation had begun long before Sherlock pretended to be dead.’  
  
Harry nodded slipping her arm around Clara. "Oh he was arse over teakettle for him from the start. Plenty of miscommunication. Johnny was still a bit on the rebound from the whole ordeal with James and being wounded and I don't think Sherlock had ever had someone care so much about him and truly love him for him. I think they were talking past each other. Then Sherlock left, John got engaged, it all went wrong. Seems to be much better now. As much as Sherlock clearly adores Rosie I'm sure he'd never say anything in front of her."  
  
‘Well I hope not. He really is a peculiar man but if John chose him he must be the right kind of peculiar for him. Did you ask   
John about being your best man?’  
  
"Nothing but the oddest for Johnny," Harry sighed with a smile. "Of course I did. He's touched. Can't wait for him to fry Sherlock's brain when he sees him all dressed up in a suit. It's a rare occasion my brother gets all dressed up. We'll get him in a very well fitting suit and watch the fireworks happen."  
  
‘Harry… you’re Scottish. Well, you have Scottish origins. Isn’t there a tradition that for official celebrations the colours of your clan should be worn or something? Have your brother wear a kilt for the reception,’ she giggled. ‘I think you and I will be too busy to watch any fireworks happen. I do think however that we’ll see them happen regardless: from the looks of things, sparks are easily flying between them both.’  
  
Harry grinned. "Why Clara, you're positively _wicked_!" she laughed, kissing her cheek. "I'm going to make Johnny wear a kilt and watch the brain of the great Sherlock Holmes melt out of his ears. Oh this is brilliant! I knew there was a reason I was marrying you!" she teased. "And since the national animal of Scotland is a unicorn, I think perhaps a unicorn theme dress for Rosie. And a stuffed unicorn to go with it as our thanks for being the flower girl."  
  
‘Oh, you knew well enough that I was wicked,’ she laughed. ‘That’s what brought you to asking me on a date in the first place, if I recall correctly. A unicorn,’ she shook her head. ‘_Why_ is it even true? Of course it will appeal to Rosie. Rainbow confetti will have to be thrown, of course. For all the gays at our gay wedding,’ she laughed.

"Does it really matter why it's a unicorn?" she laughed. "Probably someone very drunk mistook a sheep standing in front of a bush for a magical white horse with a horn." Hugging Clara close she smiled. 'Mm one of the many reasons I love you, you seem all sweet and innocent but you've got a wicked sense of humour and you're more than a bit naughty when you want to be. Mm would rainbow frosting on our cake be too much? Or maybe just rainbow sprinkles. I hope John and Sherlock get on well with Kate and her wife. Would hate for the wedding to be awkward."  
  
‘No, it really doesn’t matter why. What about rainbow sprinkles on a vanilla cake with the inside made of seven different layers – one for each colour of the rainbow? The wedding won’t be awkward. Why would it be? It is all water under the bridge,’ she reassured. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

"I love that idea. A nice little surprise for our guests. Water under the bridge, yes, but Johnny can hold a grudge for a hell of a long time if the mood strikes."  
  
‘If need be I’ll talk him around it. You two fiery Watson wouldn’t be much good at talking each other down,’ she chuckled.  
  
"You have a point my dearest. A bit like trying to put out a fire by pouring petrol on it." She nodded. "And you have a gift for calming people down. Done wonders for me."  
  
Clara leaned closer into Harry’s embrace and kissed her chastely. ‘I don’t intend to stop,’ she declared solemnly.  
  
“I know, Clare-bear. That’s what I’m counting on.”**  
**

Holding Harry’s hand, the two women arrived in front of the café where they’d arranged to meet Sherlock and John. They walked up to the table they were still sitting at, John finishing the last of his breakfast while Sherlock was waiting, softly drumming his fingers on the table next to his empty cup of tea. He gestured for Clara and Harry to sit down.  
  
She shook her head, smiling as John finished his coffee. “Still eats like he’s in the army.”  
  
John shrugged, laughing. “With a toddler I eat when I can and as much as I can before she’s off again.”  
  
‘Speaking of being off, let me remind you of the shop for her Ladyship’s Christmas,’ Sherlock urged him. ‘She _has_ heard that aborted talk about it, after all. It would be remiss of us not to bring her anything back. I meant helping Clara and Harry get her something,’ he corrected himself nonchalantly, hoping John or anyone else wouldn’t notice it, but everyone snorted or stifled a laugh.  
  
‘Which would it be, then?’ Clara teased. ‘Helping us or bringing Rosie something back?’  
  
‘Why choose?’ he replied, deadpan.  
  
John laughed shaking his head. "So, when can we expect to have dinner with you and your friends? And Rosie will be thrilled with whatever she gets. I'm sure she'll be eager to tell you all about Hedgie, Otter, and Bee."  
  
Harry smiled. "Can't wait. I think this weekend? At least if their somewhat unpredictable schedule stays the same."  
  
Clara’s smile grew into a smirk ‘As she is my bridesmaid, I’ll ensure Kate gets their schedule under control. She won’t dare cross me. Mind you, if she did I have an idea of who’d be more than willing to put her back into her place,’ she giggled.  
  
Harry snickered. "Oh I don't know about that. I think Kate's rather more in charge at home than anyone would think."  
  
‘I think it would be a good idea – best avoid too much time before she sees you for Christmas. A belated one,’ he amended.  
  
John nodded. "If you let me know a general time, I can make sure Angelo has a table for seven. That way we don't have to worry about the crowds."  
  
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. ‘Even if we were to arrive at 9 or 10 he’d have room made for us. I see your point, however – as early as possible so that Rosie’s sleep schedule is not too disrupted. Not to mention avoiding the crowds,’ he shuddered at the idea.  
  
John smiled. "Especially since I'm sure Angelo will give her something sweet and we'll need time for it to get out of her system so she doesn't get cranky and fight going to bed."  
  
‘That is his habit, that’s true. One I think that even if we told him to stop he wouldn’t be able to shake,’ he shrugged.  
  
“You know what they say about old habits being hard to break."  
  
‘It’s a date, then. We will let you know what time we’ll arrive in London of course. Don’t want to _interrupt _anything,’ she chuckled. ‘Oh, come on, don’t pretend that the two of you are not going at it like rabbits! You’ve at long last decided to open your eyes and start a relationship,’ she explained.  
  
‘You see, John? I’m not being _insatiable_ as you put it,’ he stood up as soon as John finished the last forkful of beans on his plate.   
  
He raised a brow smirking. "Doesn't matter. Still think you're insatiable.”  
  
‘I’ll show you insatiable,’ he challenged in a whisper.  
  
John smirked. "Challenge accepted.”  
  
  


A bell tinkled as the four of them entered the quaint, unassuming shop Harry had mentioned earlier. The shopkeeper, nowhere to be seen, was probably hidden behind stacks of toys he was rearranging.  
‘Good morning, Mr Cheer!’ Clara called.  
  
"With you in a moment, Clara. And Harry too I'd wager." Spotting Sherlock and John he smiled warmly looking like he could be an elf from Santa's workshop. "Well hello to you two. You must be John. You and Harry look alike. If he's John, you must be Sherlock. A pleasure. Big fan of your cases. Shopping for... Rose.... was it...?"  
  
‘Rosie,’ Sherlock corrected. ‘She’ll be pleased to know that she’s warmly talked about – as if she could be anything but,’ he added.  
  
Nodding Mr Cheer smiled. "Of course, of course, Rosie. Well what can I help you find for her? I have a nice selection of educational toys."  
  
‘A nice selection of educational toys, what a stroke of luck. The very thing we’re looking for,’ Sherlock replied sarcastically.   
‘Sorry,’ he amended when he saw more than a flash of disappointment in John’s eyes.  
  
John picked up a bear admiring the hospital equipment it came with. "What do you think of this?"  
  
‘Hm, hardly accurate I’m sure Molly could provide…’ he cut himself off as he saw John’s shoulder sag slightly and his eyes cloud before he slammed them shut, pinching the top of his nose. ‘It’s, erm, yes. It’s good.’  
  
‘Planning to get her into the medical profession already?’ Clara teased. ‘Less dangerous than the police or worse, the military.’  
  
John gave a half shrug trying not to let his disappointment show. It was just the sort of electronics enhanced toy that he thought would interest Sherlock in sharing with Rosie and helping her play at being a doctor.   
"She'd probably get tired of it after playing with it for five minutes. Maybe too much for her at this age. Maybe just a cute stuffed animal for her to cuddle with." He nodded fingers lightly sliding over the brightly coloured periodic table blocks and forcing himself to not look at Sherlock.  
  
‘Oh now you’re being too soft. Rosie’s got much more character than her name would suggest. She is not a fragile flower, dear. These would be a good idea, I think,’ he came to John and took a block in his hand, brushing their fingers together. ‘She’s had a chemistry set for Christmas, making experiments would be an excellent way to have her memorise the periodic table!’ he exclaimed.  
  
‘Let her become a mad chemist, then!’ Clara chuckled, shaking her head as Sherlock did not bother to conceal any of his enthusiasm for what John’s hands suggested.  
  
‘Do you have anything that’s less… aimed at toddlers and medicine-related?’ Sherlock asked loudly.  
  
‘Mad chemist and scientist. You’re not going to let her become the next Dr. Frankenstein, are you?’  
  
‘Her existence is a miracle enough,’ Sherlock whispered. ‘Our miracle.’  
  
John nodded with a smile leaning into Sherlock for a moment. Sometimes it was hard not to take his dislike or derision of things personally.  
"That she is." He nodded. "I think she'd like the blocks. Especially if Papa tells her what each one is. I'm surprised you're not helping her memorize the periodic table already." John chuckled, looking up at him with a soft smile. "Is the bear too much you think?"   
  
Harry smiled. "There's this doll, John. The organs are all removable and labelled. I'm sure she'd love taking them out and putting them all back in the right places."  
  
‘Too much… And irrelevant. That doll is much more interesting – no sense in pretending surgery’s done on teddy bears and not on human beings. She’s not stupid as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Runs in the family,’ he winked with a small smile on his lips.  
  
"You're probably right. A bit too much right now. Maybe when she's a bit older she'll enjoy the virtual reality, or whatever they're calling it, a bit more. For now she can take the organs out and put them back. And I'm sure she'll soon be telling us what each one does," he chuckled slipping his hand into Sherlock's and giving a squeeze. "She's going to be brilliant with you doing so much educational stuff with her."  
  
‘Of course she will. She is bound to know them all and their functions quickly given my… interests in it and experiments. I assume you approve of the safe and hygienic way of learning as opposed to my literal hands-on approach.’  
  
John chuckled. "Safe and hygienic is key. Just like how all the organs and stuff go on the top shelves in opaque containers so she can't see in them. Pictures and things are fine. I'd rather not have an inquisitive toddler putting organs and pieces of bodies in her mouth. At least for now."  
  
‘I know,’ Sherlock nodded solemnly. ‘She may have a strong personality but it shouldn’t be marred or she scarred by what we actually do. By what _I_ actually do,’ he corrected. ‘The world is harsh enough as it is.’  
  
John nodded with a half-smile. "Although she is pretty fearless. I doubt seeing parts would phase her much at all. And it's what _both of us_ do. With either or both of us explaining things to her, I doubt she'd ever be marred or scarred by things. Not when she knows that she's safe with us and we'll never let anything bad happen to her."  
  


Clara looked over to Harry, a softness in her eyes.  
Harry smiled softly slipping her arm around Clara. "Good to see those two have got things worked out. It'll be wonderful to see Rosie and meet Sultan. Somehow I have a feeling he'll be joining us at Angelo's."  
  
Clara nodded, leaning into Harry’s embrace. ‘Given how Rosie was all about him earlier and that no one seems to be able to refuse her, I’d say your instinct is right Harry.’  
  
"Angelo has already made a special exception for Sultan. She wasn't happy he had to sit on the floor but since Sherlock's coat was long enough for him to lay on she was ok. And of course he got a bowl of water and some meatballs so she was certain he wasn't being neglected. They're attached at the hip and it couldn't be cuter. Partners in mischief."  
  
‘We are in agreement then, I take it? We’ll take the blocks ourselves leaving you charming aunts with the doll and her removable organs as Rosie’s Christmas present.’  
  
John nodded. "Perfect. She'll love the blocks. She loves building things with you and learning the periodic table will just be a bonus. She's going to be so excited about being able to operate on the doll and make it all better again," he chuckled.  
  
‘Well of course she’ll learn the table, John. She’s doing well with the languages: I think a bit of science as a recompense would… What?’ he asked, puzzled at John’s chuckling.  
  
John smiled. "And I'm sure you'll find a song or something that'll make it easier for her to learn. Where was that sort of thing when I was spending hours memorising it in med school?"  
  
‘Mr Cheer!’ Clara called. ‘we’ve come to a decision – we’ll take this and these,’ she said, handing him the doll and the blocks. ‘Can you erm, be quick about it? These gentlemen are going back to London, Rosie’s missing them terribly,’ she confided.  
  
Mr. Cheer smiled. "Anything for you, Clara dear. I'll have these all wrapped up in a jiffy." He patted her hand gently. "It's good seeing you and Harry so happy. And her brother and his handsome fellow as well. I'll put in a few little extras for the little lass since she's your niece," he winked disappearing in the back to wrap things.  
  
Clara turned to Sherlock and John. ‘Don’t let Rosie figure out when she see us, yeah? I think she’ll like it more if it’s a surprise.’

‘As long as you let _us_ know…’ Sherlock replied.  
  
‘Of course! I told you: I don’t want to interrupt anything.’  
  
‘Hm. Speaking of, John, the next train is in half an hour. If we get a cab… _what?_’  
  
John laughed. "I promise we won't tell her. Go work your magic and get us a cab. They always stop for you anyway, no matter where we are. Get us our tickets on your phone so we don't have to wait in line. I'll collect the package. Go on."

Mumbling his goodbyes to Harry and Clara, Sherlock did as he was told and took his phone out of his coat.  
  
Harry smiled hugging him. "Good seeing you so happy, Johnny. You deserve it."  
  
"So do you. Glad you two are making it work this time." Hugging Clara he smiled. "Thank you for putting up with my sister and giving her another chance. Always did think you two would work things out in the end."  
  
‘Oh, we are, John. We are.’ Clara replied as she hugged John back. ‘Things were not the same without her, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. I couldn’t be happier with her by my side. We’ll see you soon then? Ah there’s Mr Cheer and the present for little Rosie. Hurry up and join your man.’  
  
John kissed Clara's cheek. "Don't let her boss you around too much," he teased. "You know how Watsons are. We're a bossy bunch. Can't wait to have you two come for a visit. You'll have to stop in and meet Mrs. Hudson." He hugged Harry again before hurrying outside to wait for the cab with Sherlock.

_There is nothing complicated in finding a cab… When not in Central London, the easiest and more efficient way is to call one. Now, let’s see about these tickets… _Sherlock thought as he disconnected the call having made his booking and looked for the national rail website. It was only a matter of minutes before everything was ready – only John was missing.  
  
"Well all that went rather well."  
  
‘Hm. And quickly, too. I’ll admit I was rather surprised your sister didn’t strike me,’ Sherlock replied, scanning the road for the upcoming cab.  
  
"Harry's hot tempered, more than I am, but once she was certain we were ok, everything's fine. You'll be in her good graces forever now for helping Clara. We'll get home, spend a bit of time with Rosie and leave her with Mrs. Hudson so we can catch up on lost sleep," He smirked slightly hand brushing Sherlock's. A bit of a kip and then they'd see what else happened. A fine plan.  
**  
  
**


	5. Sweet and Sour

As the cab they’d taken from the station pulled out at the kerb on Baker Street, Sherlock counted the notes that were needed to pay the fare, eliciting a raised eyebrow from John.   
‘Go and get our daughter, John. She’ll have missed you. I’ll be right behind you,’ he winked, whispering that he’d rather have John behind him.  
  
"Someone's feeling cheeky today," he snorted a laugh.   
  
John scooped Rosie into a hug as he met her at the door. "Hello my princess. Papa and I missed you so much. Were you good for Nana?"   
  
Hugging John tightly and pressing a slightly sticky kiss to his cheek Rosie quickly looked for Sherlock. "I was good. Sultan too. Very good."   
  
Laughing he nodded. "I'm sure you were. Papa's coming. Let's get inside where it's warm."   
  
"Hurry Papa!!"  
  
Upon hearing Rosie’s call, Sherlock hurried through the door, mussed her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead.   
‘Good morning, darling. I hope we came back quickly enough so that you didn’t have time to miss us too terribly,’ he said as he walked through the door of 221a.  
  
Mrs Hudson looked up from the sink as she heard him shuffling his way inside.  
‘Oh dear. Come in, come in. There are still a few scones left after Rosie and I forayed into baking earlier this morning. Help yourself,’ she added, putting her dishtowel aside.   
  
John smiled setting Rosie down and greeting Sultan with scratches behind the ears.   
"Thanks so much for taking her on such short notice. It was easy enough to settle everything thanks to Sherlock being there." He smiled up at him. "Even though I had a bite to eat earlier I'm not passing up your scones."  
  
‘Oh don’t worry dear, it’s always a pleasure to have Rosie over you know,’ she replied in a smile. ‘They’re not entirely _my_ scones, Rosie helped,’ she reminded John in a chuckle. ‘Would be a shame not to try them, Rosie’d get upset,’ she added looking pointedly at Sherlock who ostensibly took one from the tray, opened it and spread a generous dollop of honey on it.  
  
‘Don’t listen to Mrs Hudson, Rosie. Of course I would taste your baking,’ he put his hand into his coat pocket to take a scone out. ‘Was waiting till I got hungry, that’s all.’  
  
John huffed rolling his eyes with a smile taking a generous bite of his own. "You know, I think these are the best scones I've ever had. I don't know what secret ingredient you two used, but these are very, very good. What a treat to come home to."   
  
Rosie climbed up in Sherlock's lap. "Auntie Clara ok, Papa?" It was clear she was still a bit concerned about the whole thing.  
  
‘Yes of course she is, darling,’ he replied passing his fingers through her blond curls. ‘We wouldn’t have come back so quickly if everything were not sorted, after all. We’ll phone her before you go to bed tonight if you want. Then she can tell you herself how your Papa helped her and how her troubles are over,’ he offered, biting into the scone. ‘I have to agree, these are delicious,’ he praised, his mouth full.  
  
Rosie sighed relaxing a bit as she snuggled into Sherlock. "Promise?"   
  
John nodded. "Promise. We'll skype with your aunts. They'll tell you everything's just fine. Papa fixed everything. See even Papa likes your scones and you know what a picky eater he can be," he smiled attempting to distract her from worrying.  
  
‘Come now, Rosie. What reason would you have to doubt it if both your Daddy and I told you -promised you – everything was fine?’ he embraced her closely.

‘How are they, John? Clara and Harry? I hope everything’s fine between them,’ Mrs Hudson questioned busying herself in putting the tray of the leftover scones away: Sherlock would not be taking any more and it didn’t seem likely that John would either.   
  
John smiled. "They're doing fine. Charming little house, nice neighbourhood, plenty of friends. They're doing very well. I think it'll work out this time. Harry seems determined. They promised to come by and meet you the next time they're in town. They're very happy."  
  
‘Oh that’s good. I’m glad, John,’ she replied softly. ‘Everything seems to be looking brighter. When can we expect them? I’d like to cook something. Give them a bit of welcome of my own.’

Rosie nodded happily settled with Sherlock's arms around her. "They visit soon?"  
  
‘I’ve no idea _when_ but they will, yes. When their works permits and they have time to come up. Before the month is out, I think,’ Sherlock replied casually.  
  
John nodded. "They're looking forward to going to Angelo's since we're always raving about it. Don't put yourself out. We'll let you know and we can have a roast or something. Something that doesn't take a lot of putting together and can just sit and cook all day. They'll appreciate it."   
He smiled at Rosie and added, "And of course they want to come see you and meet Sultan. You can show them what a big girl you are and how you walk him and feed him. They'll be very excited to see your room and all your toys."  
  
‘Oh. Well, if you’re sure. I’ll be delighted to have them around, you know. This family needs to know each and every one of its members, after all,’ she replied in a chuckle.  
  
‘Mh. I’m sure Angelo will be very pleased to have new customers,’ Sherlock intoned neutrally. ‘Not as pleased as y… Nevermind,’ he disentangled his arms from around Rosie and gently let her slide off his lap before standing up and starting towards the door. ‘Sorry. I’m tired. Thank you, Mrs Hudson,’ he said, his apology clearly addressed to Mrs Hudson, before leaving 221a to go up the stairs.  
  
John gave a shrug before giving Rosie a kiss. "Why don't you stay here with Nana and Sultan for a bit. You know Papa gets grumpy when he hasn't slept." Kissing her cheek he smiled. "And we have something special for you later. Promise." Hugging Mrs Hudson he smiled. "Thank you, again, for watching her for us."

Heading upstairs after Sherlock he hung up his own jacket and Sherlock's coat, smoothing a hand over it. Rubbing his shoulder a bit he headed toward the bedroom. "Definitely need a bit of a rest..."  
  
It appeared the only thing Sherlock had gone upon going to their bedroom was to close the curtains and take his violin which he was now holding at the neck in a tight grip, violin which he would have either to tune again or whose strings he’d have to change to play properly once more.   
  
"Sherlock, love, everything ok?" John laid a gentle hand on his arm noticing the tension in his hand and arm. He was gripping the violin so tightly his knuckles were white. Stroking Sherlock's hand gently he wrapped his smaller hand around Sherlock's fine boned one. "What's wrong?"  
  
Sherlock bent his head, letting a small sigh out without relishing his grasp on his violin. ‘…wrong with me,’ he whispered.   
  
"There is nothing wrong with you, Sherlock. Not a damn thing. If there was, do you think I'd be here with Rosie? She went right to you as soon as you got in. There's nothing wrong with you."  
  
‘She’s worried I lie to her,’ he whispered. ‘That’s what I do, you told me,’ he added his voice a murmur. ‘And Angelo’s is _special. _To me, anyway,’ he muttered. ‘Not good enough.’  
  
"She's at the age she questions everything." John soothed. "This is the first time something bad has happened to someone she cares about. She just needed reassuring. I was wrong when I said that. I've been wrong about a hell of a lot of things and I'm more than willing to admit to it." He cupped Sherlock's cheek lovingly. "Angelo's is special to me too. Always will be. Think I fell for you more that first night. You look so bloody gorgeous in candle light."

‘But if… if something bad happens and I can’t do anything… I’ll have to… She’ll need… She won’t trust me if I can’t...’ he started shaking slightly. ‘Doesn’t seem special to you. Too precious to share…’ he muttered between clenched teeth.  
  
"It bloody well is special to me, Sherlock. Some of our best moments have been at Angelo's. I suggested it because I thought we'd be more at ease there. And if Rosie has a bit of a meltdown because she's hungry or tired, it won't be such a big deal. She knows you're not perfect, love. She's always going to trust you. You're her Papa.”

‘I can only be sorry about that for her… Not sure I’d be comfortable. What if Rosie’s not the only one who has a meltdown? We’ll be dining out with Clara and Harry but more importantly with _Kate_ and her _wife_, whoever they are… What if I don’t… Strangers…’  
  
"You'll be fine. It's familiar territory. You know Harry and Clara. Rosie and I will be there. You'll be fine. If I see you starting to get uncomfortable I'll suggest you check your phone because Greg texted earlier about a possible case. Then we can leave. Simple. No one would suspect a thing. Harry and Clara could get Rosie back here and you and I can just walk around the city a bit, then come back here. A few complaints from you about it not being much of a case and everyone will dismiss us leaving. Don't be sorry, love. You're the light of Rosie's world and I could not be happier you are. She loves you. Her Papa. You don't have to be perfect. Just love her and be there for her." He wrapped an arm around Sherlock hugging him close.  
  
‘I’m sorry, John… Not much use, am I?’ he sighed leaning against John. ‘Can you… Keep doing that…? For how long, I wonder… I’m sorry,’ he repeated.  
  
"I can do it as long as you need and want me to." He smiled softly. "Why don't you put your violin down and come have a proper cuddle. You'll feel better after you get some rest." Kissing his forehead softly he smiled. "You're the one who made the nightmares stop, the one who gave Rosie and I a place to belong. She thinks you hung the moon and stars. You've saved I don't know how many people. Including me more than once. You are the most useful, the most important person in the world to me."  
  
Sherlock’s reaction was but a deep humming, unconvinced sound. ‘Forgive me for not believing that at the moment… I’m nothing special, John. I don’t deserve your attention or even to have you in my life,’ he replied dejectedly.  
  
"And do you have any idea how often I feel that way about you?" He smiled softly. "I'm going to get you back on solid ground. Come on now," he patted the bed. "Come have a cuddle."  
  
Sherlock put the violin down and discarded his jacket and shoes before sitting on the bed. As John put his arms around him, Sherlock closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘You’re not going to go if I fall asleep, are you?’   
  
"Nope. Plan on getting a bit of sleep myself. I promise I'll be right here when you wake up. Farthest I'll be is the loo or the kitchen for a drink. Promise I won't be far. Probably be right here, still asleep." Pressing a kiss to Sherlock's forehead John rubbed his back gently.

Sherlock pressed himself closer to John, humming in appreciation. ‘Thank you, John. I’m sorry you’re tired.’ After a moment’s silence he shuffled away from John’s embrace to lie on the bed. ‘If you’re going to sleep… might as well be lying down.’  
  
John smiled making himself comfortable on the bed. "There. All settled. Come on. You'll sleep better if you're all curled up next to me so I can play with your hair."  
  
‘Don’t want to sleep,’ he protested weakly, curling against John whose reassuring words and presence clearly were having a definite impact on Sherlock’s somewhat anxious thoughts.  
  
"I know." He tried not to chuckle slowly running his hand through Sherlock's slightly mussed curls. "Just close your eyes for a little bit and rest. I'll be right here."

Sherlock hummed in agreement, relaxing under the light stroke of John’s fingers. ‘Do wit’ me ‘atya will,’ he mumbled, his natural tiredness coupled to the fit of anxiety he’d just had rendering him near senseless.  
  
"Mm I'm going to be right here doing this so we can both get a bit of rest." John murmured pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Sherlock's head. "That's all you need to do right now. Just rest."  
  


***

The walls around him hadn’t changed, the layout of the room hadn’t changed, there still were the same drawers where corpses were kept, the table where autopsies happened and bodies were cleaned, a chariot holding the tools that might be necessary for said autopsies… And in the other rooms all the laboratory equipment that was used to help the police conduct their investigation, assess whether Sherlock was high, to experiment on various chemicals and potentially radioactive compounds in a safe and controlled environment… The place had not changed but Sherlock had not found it in him to have a discussion with Molly Hooper to know exactly where their friendship stood. If they still had any.  
Of course, she had agreed to help them find the tights Rosie wanted for Christmas and she was generally more than civil around him, but he couldn’t help but wonder whether she was not behaving that way for Rosie’s sake: she was her godmother, after all. He wasn’t sure that their relationship hadn’t been tainted, scarred, maybe broken after that stint he’d made to ensure John would join him – a doctor to act in case the drug addict he was then needed help, a case to bring John back into action if not into his life.  
He’d told John earlier that morning that he needed to go to the morgue, the most likely place he’d find Molly so they could talk and John had taken Rosie with him to Scotland Yard to sign some paperwork or some such trifling thing.

‘Happy Christmas, Molly Hooper,’ he said, smiling and holding the candles he’d bought for her.  
  
Molly smiled at him, a bit forced, but it _was_ Christmas after all. "Happy Christmas, Sherlock. I wasn't expecting you to come by. There's not a case, is there? Greg didn't say anything. I thought you'd be spending the day with John and Rosie." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear she took the candles. "These are lovely, Sherlock. Thank you. And tell John thank you as well."   
It wasn't easy but she was anything if not patient and forgiving. After all, Sherlock seemed to have turned himself completely around again for Rosie's sake.  
  
‘I am glad you like them,’ he replied. ‘No, no, there’s no case, no. It would be stupid to have someone deliver them, wouldn’t it? Bart’s is but 20 minutes away from home. Besides, John tells me that there is nothing better than to give one’s Christmas presents in person as much as possible, especially to people one cares about.’  
  
She smiled a bit fingers running over the delicately etched glass of the jars in her hands. "Thank you, Sherlock. It's very sweet of you to bring these by. I appreciate it. They're lovely. Really. I'll have to keep at least one in my office. And how's Rosie? I'm sure she got lovely things." It was a bit awkward still but she'd make the best of it.  
  
‘I know you like candles and these have a specific fragrance. I wasn’t sure what type you’d prefer so I chose several. I’d advise to light the “calm” one at yours,’ he specified. ‘Rosie is in perfect health, making much progress on everything. We did manage to find the tights she requested and of course she had the dress to go with it,’ he chuckled. ‘She also had a puppy whom I am certain she will mention next time you see her – although why you would see her without Sultan remains a mystery: they do seem to be inseparable.’   
He shuffled slightly and clasped his hands behind his back. ‘She’s my daughter. John gave me the signed paperwork on Christmas day,’ he revealed. _That’s the sort of information one gives one's friends, isn’t it?  
  
_Eyes going wide she hugged him tightly. "OH! Sherlock! I... I'm so happy for you! And John! And Rosie, too, of course!! I'm so glad she got the leggings she wanted. And a puppy, too! How wonderful for her. Did she insist on it coming with her today? I'd love to see it, or even pictures. I'm sure you have pictures." She smiled up at him. "And the candles really are lovely. I'll be sure to use the 'calm' one when I have a pile of lab work and several people breathing down my neck wanting results and not understanding it takes time."  
  
Sherlock breathed in as best he could Molly’s hug was so fierce. ‘Thank you. Really. I could hardly be happier,’ he smiled broadly before huffing softly, taking a step back. ‘Of course I have pictures. Who do you take me for?’ He showed her the pictures John had taken when they were playing in the snow at his parents’. ‘As you can see, she wasn’t happy _at all_ in getting Sultan,’ he chuckled. ‘I’ll ask them to come to Bart’s after John and her are finished at Scotland Yard, if you’d like. You should not hesitate to mention you have connections. When someone insists to have their results… You were not talking about me, were you?’  
  
Laughing she shook her head. "No, no, not at all. You are usually very good about waiting for the results. Mostly because you have other things you're occupied with." Shrugging she sighed. "Oh mostly I just ignore it. And if they're too demanding or rude then I pass things off to someone else." Looking at the pictures she laughed. "Oh aren't they just precious! I swear she's grown since the last time I saw her. I'd love if they could come by, I'd love to see them."  
  
‘Hm, probably. Last time you saw her was three weeks ago, wasn’t it?’ he composed a quick text to John, asking for him to come to Bart’s with Rosie and Sultan because Molly was quite partial to seeing them.   
‘I, er. John, er. It seems obvious but John and I are in a relationship. And John’s sister is getting married. Harry and Clara are coming into town in the next few days. _Don’t _mention that to Rosie, their aunts want it to be a surprise.’ He hesitated, unsure how to follow. He stood up straighter. ‘The bridesmaid and her wife are coming to dinner and I’m... Harry and Clara thought it would be ideal for the chief bridesmaid and best man to meet beforehand… But I’m terrified,’ he confessed in a breath.  
  
Nodding she smiled softly. "Oh, I see. Well, come have a seat. I just put on some water for tea and I have a package of those biscuits you're especially fond of. We'll get you all sorted out." Bringing back two slightly battered mugs she sat next to him. "You have a plan, don't you? If it's terrible. You can always text me and I can call you or text back. I'm sure it'll be fine."   
  
‘Thank you,’ he replied accepting the mug she was handing him. He observed her from the corner of his eye, noting the pounds she’d lost and her slightly paler complexion. ‘Rosie won’t be happy to learn her godmother isn’t taking good care of herself,’ he remarked in a soft voice. He let a short silence settle before speaking up. ‘I’m sorry. The last time I had a plan it was… ill-advised.’  
  
Molly gave a snort accompanied with a wry smile. "I hate to break it to you, but your two biggest plans have been terrible. I know your hand was forced both times, but that doesn't make them any less terrible."  
  
‘Still. I am sorry. Please forgive me,’ he insisted.  
  
"I know. And I forgave you already. Just... No more plans. Please. At least not without talking it over."   
  
Sherlock nodded his agreement. Silence stretched between them as a bit she sipped her tea. "I've had the flu. I never get it, but it hit hard this year. I could barely keep anything down for about a week and was in bed for most of it. I'm finally feeling better and it's been nearly a month."  
  
‘Oh. The flu. John thought it particularly violent this year as well. I know that Rosie did not catch it but she did give us a severe fright on Christmas Eve,’ he contemplated.  
  
"Is she all right?" Molly asked worriedly.   
  
‘She’s a Watson,’ he replied with assurance.   
  
"And of course she had John and you there so she was in capable hands," she nodded with a smile. "I'm sure your parents adored her. How could they not? Even if they're bound to be a bit partial."  
  
‘More than you’d think,’ he replied. ‘Rosie… well, everyone adores her. Then again, John’s her father,’ he added proudly. ‘I was planning to fake being taken ill when John suggested to have pretend Lestrade called us with an emergency case if that dinner… doesn’t go well.’  
  
"And you're her father too." She squeezed his hand. "In every way that counts. Rosie's a very lucky little girl to have such amazing parents. Just let me know if you need my help. I'm sure I can come up with some emergency. Some lab results you wanted or something."  
  
‘It would be more believable I think,’ Sherlock nodded at Molly’s suggestion. ‘Of course, I’d rather not _need_ pretending and have dinner go smoothly but, you know. Things tend to go wrong where I’m involved.’  
  
"I’m sure everything will be fine. Don't worry over things that haven't happened yet. I'm sure it will be fine and they're lovely people. She patted his arm. "Just let me know if you need a little help.” He nodded. “See, this is good. Talking about a plan before you do it. A much better way of doing things," she teased gently.  
  
‘So I’m told,’ he conceded. ‘Taking your friends’ advice into account, not leaving them in the dark… We _are_ friends, are we not, Molly?’ he asked, subtly looking for reassurance – or so he thought. ‘You know I won’t be using you again, don’t you?’  
  
"I would certainly hope you won't be using me again." She told him sternly but with warmth in her voice. "I think we've both had quite enough of that, haven't we? If you need my help, just ask. Tell me what's going on and I will do everything I can to help you. But no more risking your life. You've got Rosie to think of. She needs you to stay in her life. We're all stronger when we work together and keep each other in the loop." Smiling she nodded. "Friends. Still are and always were."  
  
‘I’m glad,’ he said slightly bending his head. ‘I would never do anything that could prove detrimental to Rosie – in any way,’ he protested, appalled that Molly would even think he would.   
  
"I know you wouldn't." She nodded laying her hand over his. "I know you wouldn't. Just a reminder that if something comes up again you need to talk to all of us about it so we can put something together. Rosie's so much happier and thriving since she and John moved back in with you. I was worried for a bit there. About all three of you."  
  
‘Thank you. There was no reason to be, not once we’d talked some of it through anyway. Isn’t that right, John?’  
  
"Aunt Molly!" Rosie squealed breaking away from John's hold on her. Kneeling Molly hugged her tight. "Look how big you've got! And I see you're wearing the leggings that Sherlock found for you."   
  
Nodding she kissed Molly's cheek. "I gots a puppy!! Dis Sultan."   
  
Laughing Molly stroked the soft fur of the puppy bouncing around Rosie and barking excitedly. "Hello there Sultan. It's very nice to meet you."   
  
John smiled kissing Sherlock's cheek. "Everything go ok?" he asked softly watching Molly make a fuss over Rosie and Sultan.  
  
Sherlock stood up to bestow a chaste kiss of his own on John’s lips and take his hand. ‘Yes,’ he answered in a smile. ‘It went swimmingly, dear. I’ve told Molly about the wonderful present you’ve given me for Christmas. She was very pleased for us. I imagine she’d be less pleased and more… ill-at-ease in learning what _other_ gift you’ve given me,’ he added his voice low in John’s ear.  
  
John snickered lightly elbowing Sherlock in the ribs. "I'm sure she'd be happy for us and asked to be spared the details. Glad you texted. I hadn't mentioned you were seeing Molly. Didn't want Rosie to want to come over if things hadn't gone well. I was sure they would. Molly's very forgiving, but still..." he shrugged. "It's good for her to be around Molly. Have another female influence in her life. She'll have Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Harry and Clara. She'll be fine."  
  
‘You forgot my Mother.’

"And your Mum," he nodded.

‘Why would things had gone pear-shaped? Of course Rosie’ll be fine. Why wouldn’t she be? Is this about us being a same-sex couple? I’m confused.’   
  
“It's something people will worry about. And yes, love, I know what you think of most people and in this case I am especially inclined to agree. She's got plenty of strong female role models. And being raised by two loving parents who happen to be the same gender far outweighs being raised the more 'traditional' way by people who can barely stand each other most of the time."  
‘I find myself agreeing wholeheartedly. People do little else but talking and judging, why bother caring about their nonsense? Rosie will grow up happily in a loving home surrounded by people who have her best interest at heart. And strong role models as you, Molly,’ he added speaking more loudly so she’d hear him over Rosie who was babbling animatedly with her, showing her the various tricks Sultan could already do.  
  
Molly smiled. "I'm happy to be as involved in things as you two want. I don't have any nieces or nephews to spoil so I can devote my spoiling completely to Rosie!" Happily wrapping her arms around the little girl she smiled. "He's a very smart puppy and lucky to have you taking care of him."   
  
John nodded. "Molly, you're more than welcome to stop by whenever you like. You're part of the family. You'll have to meet Harry and Clara when they next make it to London, and of course Sherlock's parents too."  
  
Sherlock scoffed ‘Why do you insist on stating the obvious? Of course Molly is part of the family. Meeting with Clara and your sister would be a most excellent idea, it would provide an opportunity for – I almost...,’ he cut himself off, annoyed. ‘I’m not convinced on her meeting with my parents, however: John, you know how inclined Mother is to speak about old, embarrassing memories. I’m certain she would be most inclined to do so were she to meet you, Molly,’ he explained.  
  
John laughed. "Sherlock, you do realise that for every embarrassing story your mum might tell about you I'm sure there would be an equally horrifying one about Mycroft. Another person knowing Mycroft's most terribly embarrassing moments growing up could only be a good thing, right?" He nodded. "I'm sure you'll love meeting Harry and Clara. And they'll be excited to meet you. Probably invite you to the wedding since you're Rosie's godmother."   
  
Molly smiled cheeks going a bit pink. "Oh! Oh, well, I... I don't want to be any trouble or an imposition or for them to feel like they _have_ to invite me..."  
  
‘If they don’t – and I frankly doubt it – you will have to be there. As a moral support. Please. I will be out of my depth, I know it. _Emotions_. Displayed publicly. By _everyone_,’ he explained. ‘I find myself lacking somewhat in social graces, you know that. Especially among others, among strangers,’ he shuddered, remembering his performance as best man.  
  
"As long as you're _sure_ they wouldn't mind one more person..." she smiled.   
  
Rosie hugged Molly tightly. "Molly no go, Rosie no go." She wasn't completely sure what the adults were talking about but if it came down to it, she wanted Molly there. "And Sultan," she added for good measure.   
  
John snickered trying to cover it with a cough. "Yes sweetheart, I'm sure Molly will be there and Sultan too." He slid his arm around Sherlock's waist. "You'll be fine. All you have to do is make fairly polite conversation with Kate's wife and spend most of your time making sure Rosie doesn't help herself to the cake."  
‘Well God knows I have had my share of training with that – although it used to be Mycroft I had to distract to keep off the cake. I’m sorry Rosie but your uncle Mycrosoft is the master. This would be a non-issue then,’ he nodded with relief. ‘Making polite conversation, however… You mean to say I will have to keep my thoughts to myself… I… John. How can I do _that_… sober…?’ he whispered the last word in broken anguish.  
  
John smiled. "Comments about the weather are always good. Any cases we happen to be working, or asking what their favourite case was and filling in details I didn't get on the blog, endlessly talking about Rosie and all her developmental milestones is another good one. I'll be right there. You can always say that you have to run after Sultan or take him out for a short walk. You'll be fine. I'll be right there. I promise."  
  
Sherlock nodded absently, thoughtful. ‘You seem to always find ways to reassure me,’ he breathed. ‘How?’  
  
"I happen to know you pretty well. And there are few things easier to ramble on about than our cases or Rosie. And by extension, Sultan." He smiled. "You'll be fine. Just smile, nod, and steer conversations in the direction of cases or Rosie and you'll be fine. Two topics I know you can talk about for _days_ and not have to think about what to say next." John rubbed his arm soothingly.  
  
‘You forgot one topic that falls in that category, John,’ he remarked. ‘I know it’s not possible to stay stuck in a facial expression but I fear that’s what would happen if I were to keep smiling all day. Even… _before_, even for _your_… I wasn’t able to. Yet you were there the…’ he trailed off and tapped on his thigh, hoping Sultan would come to him. ‘My thoughts seem to be getting ahead of me. Once again,’ he sighed, taking John’s arm.  
Cocking his head Sultan bounced over to Sherlock's side standing on his hind legs and nudging into his hand for a scratch.   
  
John smiled up at him. "You don't have to smile the whole time. Just be... pleasant. You can do that. Remember talk about cases, about Rosie and Sultan, talk about me, I don't mind. I'll be close by. You'll be fine. These people are going to be Harry and Clara's friends and I wager a good part of them will be more than a little in awe of you. Do deductions. Just nothing that might be a bit not good..."  
  
Sherlock crouched down to Sultan and gently scratched him behind both ears. ‘Good boy,’ he whispered. ‘You keep saying that I can be pleasant… but can I _really_ be pleasant with complete strangers? Refraining from stating things that… can upset them. What if one the guests’ partner is having an affair, wouldn’t that be… kinder to save them the pain of discovering it by themselves?’  
  
John nodded. "In the long run, yes, maybe. But at a wedding... A bit not good. I know you and I know you can do this, Sherlock. As best man I'll have to be dragged around by Harry and introduced to everyone. What I'll need you to do is keep an eye on Rosie and Sultan."

Molly nodded. "And if it gets to be later in the afternoon you can always say that Rosie needs her nap and you don't want her waking up in a strange place without you or John there."   
  
"Excellent idea, Molly. She's right. And we both know that Rosie won't want to miss the excitement and will put up a fight taking a nap."  
  
‘As much as I agree… _how _is Rosie fighting to take a nap… good?’ he asked, confounded, his hands stilled behind Sultan’s ears.  
  
John smirked. "Because any toddler who doesn't want to leave fun things for a much needed nap is primed for a complete meltdown of epic proportions. Especially when there's been sweet involved. I'm the best man. It would be next to impossible for me to leave for an extended period of time to calm her down and get her to take a nap. Good thing you'll be there to step in and handle it. Rosie will get her nap and you'll get a break from all the people."  
  
Sherlock’s eyes popped in understanding, his o-shaped mouth showed exactly how pleasantly surprised and in awe he was. ‘Oh! This is _brilliant_, John! Molly!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t I think of that? Does this mean Rosie can have an extra slice of cake…?’ he whispered the last part of the sentence lest Rosie heard and was not allowed.  
  
John chuckled. "Oh I have a feeling the she'll get much more than one piece of cake. I'm sure the other guests will be slipping her bites of cake and whatever other sweets are there. It shouldn't be an issue."   
  
Molly nodded. "You know those children we saw at the zoo, Sherlock. How it was late in the afternoon and they were sticky from ice cream and fairy floss and they were having a complete meltdown and how quickly it all happened. And how fast the parents were trying to get them out and home for a nap. That's very likely what will happen to Rosie."  
  
Sherlock bore an air of complete seriousness and nodded gravely. ‘I remember. You said they were worse than me when I’m bored out of my wits,’ he recalled. ‘Now that I have all the data I fully understand why you’re always so strict about sweets. I know the _facts_ but I have no empiric knowledge of their effect in real conditions,’ he continued finding his ground again.  
  
John smiled squeezing his hand. "I know neither of us is going to be one of those parents who never allow their child sweets at all, but moderation is the key. And we can't control what other people do so an overabundance of sweets is bound to happen."  
  
‘When have I _ever_ been known to be moderate, John?’ Sherlock enquired, his raised eyebrow suggesting a wide area of indecent explorations. ‘I beg to differ, however. In theory, at least. People can be controlled. Or _could _be if all the variables and parameters were observed, measured, controlled and collected.’  
  
John smiled. "Mm and the ability to control the guests of a more than slightly drunken wedding party is almost beyond even you," he teased affectionately. "Harry will probably be one of the few sober people there. And Clara too in support. Sometimes not having complete control over a situation makes it all the more thrilling."  
  
‘Hm. I’ll take your word for it,’ he replied. ‘Although recent experience would bring me to agree with that statement,’ he added.   
  
John laughed. "Yeah, exactly. I'm sure you'll manage. Nothing like a toddler crashing from a sugar high and in need of a nap to provide an excellent excuse for leaving a party for a couple hours. Speaking of, I think it's about time for lunch."   
  
"Lunch!" Rosie crowed arms in the air. "Papa, lunch!" She bounced over to him. "Fishies and chips pease!"  
  
‘Oh you want peas, darling? You know your Daddy has this special recipe that you absolutely adore,’ he teased, pretending not to understand.  
  
Huffing she stomped her foot. "No, Papa. Not peas. PEASE. Want fishy an' chips, pease."   
  
John laughed swinging her up in his arms, tickling her. "Fish and chips for lunch? I think we can manage that. But only if Aunt Molly will come with us. There's a very good fish and chips shop just around the corner."  
  
‘Not to mention that he always gives me extra portions,’ Sherlock intoned. ‘Are you coming?’ he turned towards Molly. ‘Rosie seems to desperately want to eat fish and chips and John is adamant that you come along. So?’  
  
Molly smiled with a shrug. "Well, I don't have a lot going on today so there's no reason why I couldn't leave for a bit to have lunch with Rosie. And you two, of course."   
  
"And Sultan!" Rosie added. "He gotsa have lunch too!"   
  
John smiled. "But not too much. Remember what we talked about. We don't want Sultan to have an upset tummy because he ate too much."  
  
‘Which is why we feed him twice a day. Dogs have a far more delicate and fragile stomach than human beings. I’ve been wanting to conduct and write a study on the difference between the two – barring evident dangerous if not lethal food, you and Sultan offer an excellent basis for comparison: in regards to the species you are of roughly the same age, live in the same home, already have food suited to your physical needs…’ he trailed off, noticing that Rosie who usually was his keenest audience was all but ignoring him in favour of animatedly babbling to Molly about Sultan, her small hands buried by his already abundant fluffy hair. ‘Rosie is showing clear signs of…What?’ he asked John, confused. ‘What could possibly be funny now?’  
  
John kissed his cheek. "Just you being you. I'm sure that would be an interesting study, comparing Rosie and Sultan's reaction to different foods. I'm sure they'd both be more than willing to help with it."  
  
Sherlock gave John a shy, secretive smile. ‘I have other experiments in mind for which you would prove to be the perfect subject, should you be… amenable to help.’  
  
John chuckled sliding an arm around him. "Mm is that so, love? Well maybe once Rosie's down for her nap we'll have a bit of time. And we definitely will once she goes to bed. As long as you tell me what you're planning I'm sure I'll be happy to participate."  
  
Sherlock nodded, relishing the contact of John’s arm around his waist. ‘Good. That’s… good. I fully appreciate your dedication to science, John.’  
  
"Oh I know you do," he laughed softly running his nose along the line of Sherlock's jaw. 'You know I'm always more than willing to help in certain experiments of yours."  
  
‘Indeed,’ he replied slowly bending his head sideways to allow more room for John to explore and mark him as his… His eyes snapped open. ‘Lunch,’ he said in a small voice. ‘We’re on our way to lunch. With Rosie and Molly.’  
  
"Yes we were. And then a nice walk home to make sure a little girl and her puppy are tired enough to nap for an hour or so." He smirked. "And I fully expect you to eat and not just pick at your food," he reminded him gently.  
  
‘Saint Bart’s is hardly a long walk from home,’ he replied automatically before realising that ‘a walk home’ could take longer than what he was assuming: it was unlikely they would use a straight direction. ‘Oh.’  
  
"Maybe a stop in the park to let them play for a bit and feed the ducks. We'll just be on the lookout for the geese. Nasty little buggers," he shook his head. "Weather's nice, not too cold. A good run in the park and some honey vanilla chamomile tea when we get in should have her right off to dreamland."  
  


Sherlock watched Rosie walking next to Molly, holding Sultan’s lead who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to saunter around them. His little girl was joyously blabbering away to her attentively listening godmother (aunt, really), an audience she didn’t have to woo _As if she has to woo anyone into listening to her_. It was a heart-warming sight.  
  
‘I imagine she’ll be sleepy after lunch – digesting,’ he commented to no one in particular. He took John’s hand in his and held it tightly. ‘Digesting slows me down, aren’t you… concerned about that?’   
  
John smiled squeezing his hand. "Mmm an afternoon of slow, languorous, sex with you? I think that sounds absolutely perfect. Don't see any reason for concern there."  
  
Sherlock nodded. ‘Then I’ll heed your reminder, John. With that in mind, I propose we hurry to that fish and chips shop,’ he said, picking up his pace.  
  
John laughed softly watching as Sherlock easily caught up with Molly and Rosie. Swinging Rosie up on his shoulders she settled her little hands in his curls, giggling. One thing was certain, Sherlock Holmes was a bloody good father.  
  
‘Now, Rosie, remember your manners,’ he reminded her as he bounced her on his shoulders, eliciting excited giggles. ‘I’ll remember mine and eat a decent enough amount of food, as well. After lunch we’ll walk home to the park where you and Sultan can play to your heart’s content. How does that sound to you, darling?’ he asked as they came in view of the unassuming place.  
  
"Park!" she exclaimed and giggled petting his hair and kissing the top of his head. "We feed th' duckies? Pease."   
  
John smiled up at her. "We'll feed the ducks, I promise. We'll stop and get something for them. Are you going to eat some of what Papa and I get or are you getting your own food?"   
  
Thinking for a minute she scrunched her face. "Share." Maybe if she and Papa shared it would look like he'd eaten more and Daddy wouldn't be grumpy about it.

‘I can’t see you, darling but I certainly can feel you elaborating a plan,’ Sherlock chuckled. ‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you to want to share your food. Our daughter is taking your lessons to heart, John,’ he added with a smile. ‘We’ll ask for more bread to feed the ducks,’ he promised, addressing Rosie once more. ‘Or you can ask the owner of the fish and chips shop, I’m sure he’ll give you more than you need.’  
  
"Nice to share." Rosie nodded happy with her plan. They'd both get more than enough to eat. She was much more interested in playing with Sultan in the park and feeding the ducks than eating. Eating was boring.   
  
John chuckled. "Yes. It is very nice to share and I'm sure Papa will make sure you eat plenty and you'll make sure he eats plenty. Works out well that way."  
  
‘Of course I will, John. You know I will,’ he declared as they walked into the tiny place. ‘Hello, Henry. Table for four, please. We’ll have two large fish and chips and – Molly, what are you taking?’  
  
"The grilled shrimp with jasmine rice please, my usual," she smiled finding them a table and stroking Sultan's ears. "It's nice seeing all of you so happy. It's high time things settled down and you all had a chance to be happy."

‘Thank you, Molly. We are. We really are,’ Sherlock replied warmth in his voice as he put Rosie on the seat next to him. ‘Aren’t we, darling?’ His little girl giggled and nodded enthusiastically in response. ‘Of course we are,’ he smiled at her and deposited a small kiss on John’s cheek across the table.  
  
John smiled. "Molly, our door's always open. Please, come see us and Rosie any time. We'd love for you to visit often."   
  
Rosie nodded. "See Sultan too!"   
  
"That goes without saying. Of course she'll come to see Sultan too." John promised. "We're closer than your place. If the weather's bad, stay with us."   
  
Molly's cheeks coloured. "I appreciate it."  
  
Sherlock went one further. ‘You _are_ always welcome. After all, not only are you our oldest friend but you’re also Rosie’s godmother and favourite aunt. Don’t repeat that to Harry. Or Clara,’ he hastened to add.  
  
Molly giggled. "I won't tell. I promise. It's just because I'm closer, that's all."   
  
"Doesn't matter, Molly. Family is family and you're part of it," John smiled.  
  
Sherlock remembered Clara and Harry's declaration. ‘Family means no one’s set aside. Not even Mycroft. Even if I tried he would make the task impossible to accomplish.’  
  
Molly laughed. "I don't think he'd_ let_ you, no matter how hard you tried. Greg's seemed happier since they've been together. Less stressed. I'm sure he's been good for your brother too."  
  
‘Please don’t mention my brother so,’ Sherlock replied, trying to keep his voice haughty but failing miserably; he placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing it to reassure himself. ‘It’s… distressing,’ he admitted.  
  
John snorted trying not to smile too much as he put a small piece of fish and a few chips on her plate. "All I'll say is I know Mycroft is trying. He put on quite a show for Rosie. Dressed up as someone special and everything. She loved it."  
  
"I hope you got pictures," Molly smiled nibbling on her shrimp.  
  
'Of course John's got pictures. He's got one of me in that hat, hasn't he?' Sherlock replied, ignoring his plate in favour of watching John. 'But enough talk about that. I'm surprised you're not fussing over Rosie, Molly,' he noted, quirking an eyebrow, encouraging her to develop.  
  
Molly smiled. ‘I didn't want to distract her from eating."   
  
John laughed. "Rosie, tell Aunt Molly what you and Papa got to do special with Brigid."   
  
Rosie bounced in her seat. "Me an' Papa rided horsie! Big pweddy horsie."  
  
'Rosie was graceful as she rode that horse. A proper princess,' he commented. 'My parents' neighbour owns a large barn. She rescues horses - and Rosie seems to have decided that one of them were hers.'  
  
John chuckled. "They loved it. Tried to get me on one but that's not going to happen. Trouble on both ends and crafty in the middle. One step above camels," he shook his head.  
  
'Hm. I've not given up on that,' Sherlock mumbled under his breath.  
  
"Daddy, picshuhs of horses!" Rosie tugged on his sleeve.   
  
"Yes, sweetheart. I was just going to show Aunt Molly the pictures." Smiling he passed his phone to Molly. "She loved it. I'm sure she'll spend a lot more time with them next visit."   
  
Rosie nodded. "Love horsies."  
  
'What's not to love with these?' he noted. 'They're nice, patient and completely docile. I seem to have forgotten to mention the feature Rosie finds the most interesting: they're pretty,' he articulated the last word with precision.  
  
Molly smiled. "Oh look at the two of you! What a wonderful thing for you two to do together. And it is a very pretty horse, Rosie."   
  
Rosie grinned waving a chip in the air the way Sherlock would gesture with his violin bow. "My horsie!"   
  
John laughed. "Brigid was nice enough to let Rosie 'adopt' him and get regular updates and Skype visit."  
  
Sherlock smiled softly, lightly brushing his fingers through Rosie's curls. 'I did enjoy the walk,' he confirmed, 'it is an excellent activity to share with one's child,' he added looking pointedly at John.  
  
John smiled. "You had fun riding. I know you enjoyed it. And the fact that you're going to teach Rosie's wonderful. Something for you two to bond over while I support from the safety of the ground. Works out perfectly all around."  
  
Sherlock scoffed. 'Well of course I enjoyed it, do not be obtuse, John. Who better to teach her than someone who learnt as soon as he could walk? For some reason I've always found horses - and animals in general - to be of a more agreeable company than most other human beings. That's slightly altered now,' he added fondly.  
  
"Thank you, love." John smiled. "And I really did enjoy watching you teach her the finer points of horsemanship. And so did she."  
  
‘I know you did, John. Would you ever consider benefiting from that teaching – from a closer observation point? Not _necessarily _on the horse’s back, Daddy appears adamant not to join us that far, Rosie,’ Sherlock pointed out.  
  
Rosie happily ate a chip feet swinging under the table as she looked up at Sherlock. "No ridins?"   
  
John smiled. "I'm perfectly happy on the ground watching you two and that you two have your own special activity that does not involve me."  
  
‘You heard your Daddy, darling,’ Sherlock replied dejectedly, shaking his head. ‘He does not… feel comfortable to share this with us.’   
  
John sighed. "Sherlock, it's not like that at all. I don't see why I HAVE to be involved aside from getting pictures and video and supporting you two from the safety of the ground."  
  
‘Aside from the fact that Rosie is your daughter? Why indeed,’ he grumbled. ‘I’m sure she’d like for you to only _sit _on the horse _once_. I promise I’ll get you off. Your Daddy is tiny, he’d need help to get back to the ground.’  
  
John growled deeply. That last bit had been uncalled for. _Very_ uncalled for. "Bit not good, Sherlock. Bit not good at all. You're using Rosie against me in this and it isn't fair. Or right. _Fine_. I'll sit on the BLOODY horse if it'll stop your whinging about it!"   
  
Thankfully Rosie was engrossed in showing Molly Sultan's tricks to pay attention to the argument going on between her parents.  
Sherlock breathed in, flinching at John raising his voice and using colourful words.   
‘John… Language… I’m… sorry?’ he added, uncertainty clear in his voice. _What had happened?  
_  
John sighed rubbing his head and pushing away the rest of his lunch. "I'm really not hungry. Got a headache coming on and my shoulder's killing me. I'll see you and Rosie at home."   
He stormed out, the shop door clattering behind him.   
  
Rosie looked up at Sherlock clearly worried. "Papa, where Daddy go? No finish lunch..." John not finishing a meal was nearly unheard of. Especially when he always encouraged Rosie and Sherlock to clean their plates.

Upon hearing the anguish in his little girl’s voice and seeing it etched on her face, Sherlock braced himself and elected not to show his own confused distress. There was no sense in upsetting Rosie any more than she already was as well.

‘He’s gone home, darling. There’s nothing to concern yourself with. He’s fine, of course he’s fine,’ he commented more for himself than for Rosie. ‘Finish your chips, darling, don’t let your Daddy’s abrupt departure distract you. We’ll go back home afterwards. I’m sorry, Molly, that you had to witness… this. Whatever prompted it,’ he added in a whisper. _He clearly needs to cool off_, he shuddered in remembrance.  
  
Molly shook her head. "Sherlock I think you hit a nerve. You didn't see it, but I happened to more than once. Mary would often pull that card on John, claiming he didn't love her and Rosie, telling him it was his job to do something with Rosie since she'd been dealing with her all day while he got a 'break' at work. Or if he wanted to stay in on the weekend because he was completely exhausted and just spend time at home with her and Rosie she'd throw a fit and drag him all over."  
  
Sherlock blinked several times, his brain screeching to a halt. ‘I… Did I…? I _never_ would imply anything of the sort!’ he protested albeit in a lower voice to protect Rosie. ‘Or _do_ anything to bring him down. Surely he knows that. He does, doesn’t he?’ he asked, nostrils flaring and eyes widening in panic.

She nodded. "He does, but sometimes when a person's had the same thing happen to them over and over they take anything remotely similar as a repeat of the same experience. I know what you meant. And logically, John knows too. Emotionally though... he's berating himself for not being good enough. Not a good enough son, soldier, doctor, friend, husband, father, partner. He'll start blaming himself for things he had no control over and worrying himself sick that because he gets angry, because of what he did to you, that he'll turn into his father. A raging alcoholic bully. Don't think that didn't get thrown in his face more than once." She sighed. "I don't know why Mary would tell me those things when I'd go watch Rosie... Probably to try and turn me against John..."  
  
Sherlock opened his mouth briefly before closing it immediately after. ‘But… He…’ he interrupted himself as no other words were forthcoming. Molly’s information had left him without words not to mention thoughts. How could he feel all this upon a single comment? _Why_ would he think so lowly of himself? Why would anyone inflict so much abuse on him that he’d find himself broken? How could _John_ be broken, or let others break him? He was the epitome of strength, courage, loyalty, patience, cleverness and so many other positive attributes… Molly had opened his eyes. It was evident from what she had just revealed that they would need to have a lengthy discussion on these… issues. After John’s anger had abated. And Rosie were at Mrs Hudson’s or Molly’s.   
  
Molly smiled. "If it's all right with John, you know I'm happy to have Rosie and Sultan over. She adores Toby and he likes when she's there. He's fine with dogs. In fact he's always been more like a dog in a cat's body than a cat. For as long as needed. I've missed having her over. And you know that Mrs. Hudson loves having Rosie, and Sultan too now. I think you two need to have a good talk and sort things out." She patted Sherlock's hand gently. "I'll take Rosie and Sultan to the park and for a treat at a cafe. You can let me know if you want me to keep them at my place or bring them to Mrs Hudson or you two."  
  
'Thank you,' he nodded. 'For never letting her get to you, never letting John down and being there for us.' He looked at Rosie who was eating chips and feeding some to a patiently waiting Sultan. 'Would you... I'm sure they would like that,' he approved.   
  
Smiling she nodded. "I'm more than happy to spend some time with them. She's outgrown most of what I had for her at my place. We'll go on a little shopping trip and get her some things to keep at my place whenever they stay over. Will she be all right with just Sultan or should I stop by and get her one of her stuffed animals?"  
  
‘It does sound like an interesting afternoon,’ he commented. ‘I wouldn’t… Who needs toys when one has a puppy? She’ll be fine – and more to the point, you don’t need to stop by at Baker Street,’ he concluded, massaging his thigh and avoiding her gaze 'I... I think he needs some time to... I do, too, I imagine,' he added, absently touching the scar on his left eyebrow.  
  
Noticing Sherlock touching the barely visible scar on his eyebrow she shook her head. "You and I both know neither of you were yourselves when all that happened. You'd both been in a place where the straw finally broke the camel's back. And I know it won't happen again. Please don't worry that it will."

Uneasy at having been deduced Sherlock brought his hand down on his thigh. _She _has_ been able to read my schemes long ago. John was right, and apparently, she also seems to be able to read me as I do other people. Inconvenient… and awkward.  
_‘I know. I don’t… It’s water under the bridge, there’s nothing to forgive or to fear,’ he said dismissively in a soft voice.  
Molly smiled softly. "Sherlock, I've never known two people who loved each other more or were more willing to make sacrifices for the other one. You'll get through this. I know you will. Give John a bit to cool down and then go fix him up. If anyone's going to be able to help him get his head on straight again, it's you. I know he wouldn't accept the help from anyone else. Rosie and I will have a wonderful time tonight. We'll stay up late, watch movies, eat popcorn. She can do my hair and paint my nails. It'll be a wonderful night."

‘Oh, I know you will. How could she not enjoy an evening with her favourite aunt? I trust you not to indulge her too much – but it would be ludicrous to expect anyone _not_ to, even a little,’ he replied adding more vinegar on his chips. ‘Of course I’ll give John time to calm down. He’s always needed it,’ he reflected. ‘I… Yes. We will correct this. Make it better. I don’t know _how_ since neither of us is very good at expressing or dealing with our emotions. Thank you for your support, Molly,’ he added, sincerity in his voice.

Molly smiled. "Maybe try starting with an apology. Not so much for what you said, but for what he went through and how all of it made him feel. Hold him. No matter how much he resists it. Tell him you love him." Wrapping an arm around Rosie she smiled. "I think we'll start The Princess Diaries. A classic. Princess Mia. I have the books. I'll start reading to her. How does that sound?"

Rosie smiled. "Story time!"

Molly laughed. "Yes, story time. You and Sultan are going to come home with me after we go to the park. Sound fun?"

Looking up at Sherlock she nodded. "Papa go see Daddy?"

‘As ever, your advice is invaluable. Thank you, Molly Hooper,’ he replied in a serious, almost solemn, tone. ‘Yes, darling. I’m going to see Daddy to help him feel better,’ he nodded to his little girl, a small smile on his face. ‘Don’t worry, he’s fine, darling. He only needs a little bit of time,’ he reassured her. ‘You’re not worried, are you? You’ll be with Aunt Molly,’ he smiled more broadly.  
  
"Go to park?" She looked up at Molly.

Smiling warmly Molly nodded. "The park and a little shopping, dinner and a movie, then story time. You and Sultan are going to keep me and Toby company tonight. Sound fun?"

Rosie smiled. "Ok. Papa fix Daddy boo boo."

‘Quite so,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll be going, now,’ he said standing up, discarding his still mostly full plate. ‘Thank you again. I know we’ve not been back for long but I promise it’s not going to be for long, Rosie. Daddy and I will see you tomorrow,’ he embraced her and kissed her cheek before leaving the shop, his coat billowing behind him.

Rosie snuggled into Molly not overly worried. She liked spending time with her. "All right, Rosie, now we're off to the park. We'll stop and get some bread for the ducks and you can play on the slide and the swings." Rosie nodded hugging her.   
  


***  
  


John sat alone in the flat with the lights off, idly toying with half a full tumbler of expensive scotch. He didn't know why he'd poured it. He'd promised himself and Rosie that he wouldn't drink again. And what was he doing? Sitting here with a drink in his hand. On top of losing his temper and upsetting Sherlock and Rosie and ruining their perfectly wonderful day. What good was he, sitting here feeling sorry for himself? _Good job, Watson. Ruin your daughter's day and make your partner worry you'll hit him again. Worthless. Worthless at everything. Failure at everything._ Everything he touched just fell apart and turned to rot. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if he'd never met up with Mike and ended things before even meeting Sherlock.

John was utterly miserable. Why couldn't he have just let it go?! He knew Sherlock hadn't meant things the way they'd sounded and yet here he was hating himself for overreacting to the whole thing. He hadn't missed the brief flare of panic in Sherlock's eyes when he'd lost his temper. He'd promised never to do it again, never to hurt him again, and yet he'd done nothing but make Sherlock worry about it. Some partner he was. He'd wanted to enjoy the day with Sherlock and Rosie and here he'd gone and ruined it all.

As soon as he was out of the fish and chips shop Sherlock took his phone out of his pocket, ready to type a text. However, he remembered the flare of his temper and knew that a violent emotion was more often than not followed by an intense bout of dark thoughts and decided to phone him instead – the call was directed to voicemail straightaway. John’s phone’s battery being still very decent when they were at the hospital, Sherlock’s worry came to the forefront of his thoughts, rendering logic impossible. He walked faster, completely aware that he wouldn’t be able to bear a trip in a cab to Baker Street – not at lunch hour, not in this emotional state; it was best to walk some of it off, let his transport carry him home, trying to find distractions in all the other pedestrians, cars and buses around him.

His throat was dry and his bare hands hot and sweaty as he approached Baker Street, his heart hammering in his chest as he came closer to the door of their home. John had visibly taken his words badly and he was now running one dramatic scenario after the other, all of them with a gloomy ending. As he looked up and saw the curtains closed his anguish increased tenfold – why would he require privacy from the outside world? Or to _hide_ from the outside world? Why couldn’t Sherlock have kept silent? Why couldn’t he have let the matter of _fucking horse riding_ go? Why did he have to anger John so? What if John _hadn’t_ calmed down? What if he were still angry? What if he were violent – against himself as well? His breathing was becoming difficult, tight as his chest was with overflowing, constricting emotions – thinking long since become impossible.

He opened the door and took to the stairs of the silent – save from the noise from 221a – building.

John was silent and still. He'd tried to put the glass back on the table but he'd missed. The glass had broken and his hand was bleeding quite a bit. Nothing too serious but certainly not something he'd usually ignore. He heard Sherlock but didn't, couldn't move. If he moved it would probably just frighten him and make things worse than they already were.

Sherlock took in the sight of his partner frozen in the middle of the living room, his eyes glazed – not as someone who’d drank their problems away but as someone… unable to process what was happening for whatever reason. His hand was red, the blood running freely from it falling on the broken glass at his feet. He was standing and clearly not in need of urgent medical attention but his stillness was particularly unnerving.   
‘John,’ he said as he extended his hand slowly. ‘You’re bleeding,’ he stated dumbly. ‘You should… have that seen to,’ he commented, the shock of seeing his partner so unmoving, unwilling to even meet his gaze making him feel confused and worthless so much so that he could only state the obvious. _Not by me, evidently_, he thought to himself. _What good could that do? Break him more than he seems to already be?_

John didn't seem to register Sherlock's presence or the fact he was bleeding on the carpet – he was too caught up in his own head, berating himself and hearing his father's drunken shouting about how worthless he was. Too small, too scrawny to be the athletic sort of son he'd wanted. John had been more interested in school and learning. Yes he'd been good at sports but books had been important too. He'd lost many number of books to his father's drunken rages. He'd failed him as a son and his mother too. He'd been on deployment when his mother's cancer had returned. By the time everything had been processed he couldn't even make it for the funeral. Harry'd been so far in the bottle he'd just walked away from her. He'd never been able to keep a girlfriend. He'd failed Mary spectacularly. And Sherlock, the person who mattered most, he'd failed him more times and in more ways he could count. Who was next, Rosie? How would he fail her?

Still unmoving, Sherlock carefully observed John – careful not to make any sudden movement in case he was in the throes of a PTSD attack. Rage and violence seemed very much unlikely at this point. The broken glass on the carpet had obviously contained liquor that hadn’t been drank _why not? Conscience, maybe? _and not only wasn’t his hand bleeding rather freely but also had shards trapped in it. His posture was hunched offering a stark contrast to the usually upright, military one that had been ingrained and which he still adopted; his so expressive face had gone ashen and blank, the quick smiles he was ready to offer long gone, leaving only wrinkles and a sagging mouth.   
‘John,’ he repeated this time more forcefully. ‘I’m sorry. Can I…’ he stumbled over the words for a time ‘make a cup of tea?’ he offered, unsure. How did anyone react in a tense situation, how did one dispel it?

John shivered hand clenched tightly at his side and short nails digging into the cuts from the shattered glass. He flinched at the sound of Sherlock's voice seeming to draw even further into himself. He shook his head at the intrusive sound, bringing back some alertness of his surroundings.   
"No... No... Don't come close. Don't touch me. Hurt you. Again. All I do. Failed you. Over and over. Failing Rosie now too..." he shrugged slightly with a faint sniffle too far gone to realise the depths of the PTSD attack. It hadn't been this bad since shortly after the second botched surgery on his shoulder.

_PTSD. Violin?   
_‘John… No. I won’t… be coming close to you, I swear. Sit down, please. You haven’t failed me. You won’t fail me,’ he asserted in a soft, firm voice. ‘Hurting me… We’ve discussed this, haven’t we? You know it’s… nothing. You were in a bad frame of mind, I wasn’t completely myself and pushed you too far. It’s all fine, now. You’ve not failed me,’ he repeated, his voice slightly shaking as revisiting that particular memory was not something he relished. ‘You’re _not_ failing Rosie either. Why would you? You’re always there for her, always taking care of including her in everything you, we do. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… insisted on you participating in the horse riding activity that much. I only thought it would be nice to have something all three of us shared. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. You know I didn’t, don’t you? Sit down, please, John,’ he continued in a contrite voice. ‘Please let me take care of you,’ he begged.

"Not your fault," he shook his head. "Not your fault, ever. Hurt you more. Over reacted. Stupid. Stupid." John swallowed hard. "Didn't want to be like this and here I am... Fail everyone."   
It was clear he wasn't really hearing or processing what Sherlock was saying and barely registering his presence.

Sherlock knelt on the floor, still clad in his coat. ‘No. You’re not. Listen to me,’ he said firmly, his voice stronger yet still quavering. ‘You are not a failure. I love you. You’ve saved me so many times and in so many ways. I’ve told you, remember?’ He shifted a few inches closer to John, extending his hand. ‘You’re clever. So clever and so brave. You handle _me_. And you do it admirably. I’m so happy with you, John. John. Please, listen to me, dear. John. I love you,’ he declared, no uncertainty, no doubt or fear in his voice. He moved even closer, and brushed the tips of his fingers against John’s good leg. ‘Come back to me, my love.’

Sherlock's touch seemed to startle John back to reality at least a bit. Blinking he looked down at Sherlock. "Sherlock?" He sounded confused and still a bit lost. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have... It was stupid... I'm so sorry..." Hand still clenched tightly he swallowed hard. "I ruined our day..."

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief at hearing John addressing him directly, seemingly reconnecting to the real world and coming back to him. ‘You heard me… Thank you… You didn’t ruin our day. The day is not over, dear,’ he straightened up and took John’s hand in his, lightly. ‘Do you think maybe we should talk about it? After I’ve cleaned your hand…?’ he inquired still on his knees, bringing a handkerchief up to his bleeding palm.

John blinked at his hand forcing it to uncurl slowly. "Shit..." He looked at it. "When did that happen? Didn't even hurt until now. Which it does. A hell of a lot." Sighing he touched Sherlock's cheek with his uninjured hand. "I know I messed up. I'm sorry..." He sighed deeply looking and feeling years older than before everything had fallen apart.

Sherlock took in John’s lost and confused demeanour but gave a small smile at his sudden awareness of pain – and the reluctant care he’d have to undergo. ‘Doctor _are_ the worst patients. You might need stitches – and painkillers. I’d say you didn’t drink because the whiskey is on the floor so it’s safe to take those. You didn’t mess up, dear. Of course you didn’t. I was inconsiderate. I shouldn’t have pushed this far and realised it was not good form on my part. _I’m_ sorry,’ he insisted.

"Why are you apologising when I'm the one who lost it?" He sighed trying to stop bleeding all over the rug. "I hate painkillers. You know I try not to take them. I've been shot. I'll be ok." Shrugging slightly he ran his thumb over Sherlock's cheek. "I’m so sorry... So sorry..." Looking around he frowned slightly. "Rosie?"

‘She’s spending the afternoon with Molly. She offered to take her for the night. I think we should take her up on that offer, it’ll do you a world of good,’ he replied. ‘I know you hate them. But you did hurt yourself and the cut is rather deep. Stitches and painkillers. It does appear that you need to talk – you “lost it” because I pushed too far. That’s why I’m apologising. Why are _you_ being sorry for? Being human?’ he asked gently, dropping a light kiss on John’s thumb.

John sighed. "Don't suppose I can convince you to stitch this up for me? Really don't want to go to the A&E with this. Suppose it's for the best. Wouldn't want Rosie seeing this mess. Don't want her scared seeing the blood." He glanced at Sherlock's knees. "And you were kneeling on the glass too. You're not too hurt, are you? You had every right to push." He half-collapsed in his chair a bit light headed.

Sherlock chuckled lightly, more a nervous giggle than anything else. ‘The worst patients, indeed. And it’s _me_ saying that,’ he shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve had much worse. Besides, my trousers offer some protection,’ he reassured him, pulling himself up to rest his hands on both sides of John’s armchair. ‘Water…?’ he offered after contemplating him for a minute. ‘Every right to push? Whatever do you mean?’ he asked belatedly. ‘I… Did push and press until you gave up. I had no right to do that. I _have_ no right to do that.’

John sighed. "You just wanted me to do something with you and Rosie. And I acted like it was something terrible. Some ordeal I had to endure. Not spending time with you and our daughter. I spend plenty of time pushing you to do things you don't want to do and aren't comfortable with." Shaking his head he gave a snort, still angry with himself. "Make sure you're not bleeding and there's no glass stuck in you. Don't need another scar on account of my carelessness." Wincing he flexed his hand with a hiss of pain. Well he'd be doing things one-handed for a while apparently. Glancing at Sherlock he nodded. "Water, please. Thank you."

‘Restrained carelessness, if you must insist on it,’ Sherlock argued, getting up to his feet. ‘I would like to know why you reacted as if I wanted something else than the three of us spending time together,’ he said softly. ‘Clearly you’ve things on your mind. Let me… Didn’t you tell me we were a team? We should act as one: no withholding information. I’m sure you’re not doing it on purpose,’ he hastened to add, dusting his knees, small shards of broken glass falling off his trousers. ‘If I do get a scar – which I very much doubt – that’s one I will certainly cherish. Received on the field while helping… You, my dearest.’   
He went to the kitchen to pour John a glass of water. ‘I’m afraid my stitching skills are not stellar, I will not be able to do it as fast and neatly as you would,’ he called from the kitchen. ‘No amount of practise has helped,’ he commented as he returned to the living room, setting the glass onto the side table next to John’s chair.

John shrugged. "So long as it's numbed up, the rest doesn't matter. I'd rather you do it than drag me to the A&E. Besides they'll be your stitches. Like you said any scar would be worth the memory."   
Carefully picking up the glass he sipped the water. Leaning his head back he closed his eyes swallowing hard and hoping his voice held steady. Reaching for Sherlock he held his hand tightly. "I'm sorry. I am. You don't know how sorry I am. It just... hit me wrong.... Used to hear it all the time. The needling, the not-so-implied idea that I didn't love Rosie if I didn't want to spend every second with her. Especially when I'd just got off a twelve-hour shift at the clinic and was dead on my feet and just wanted to eat something and relax a little." He shook his head. "The second I was in the door, Rosie was handed off and if I dared even hint at how tired I was I'd get raked over the coals about how hard it was to stay at home all day with an infant."

Sherlock squeezed his hand a bit more tightly, giving him reassurance of his presence. ‘It’s over, now. It’s okay now. You know I won’t say things like that, don’t you? I’m sorry it was such a bad time, I… had not realised just how bad it was for you then. I made a promise, a vow. I will always be here for you, John. Let me take the first aid kit and stitch you up,’ he said gently disentangling their fingers to go and retrieve what he’d need.   
‘I’m proud of you,’ he declared coming back with the needed paraphernalia. ‘I know it’s not always easy, but I’m proud of you,’ he took John’s injured hand in his, gently applying the disinfectant and clearing up the wound to prepare for the stitches.

John gave a weak smile holding still as Sherlock cleaned the cuts on his hand. "Proud of me? For what?! For upsetting you and Rosie and making everyone miserable?" Sighing he shook his head. "I'm sorry. For flying off the handle like that. I shouldn't have lost my temper. I know you'd never say anything like that or mean it. Things were... Very bad... I was trying the hardest I could for Rosie, but nothing was ever enough. I suggested that she work part-time. A few hours a couple days a week and I'd stay home with Rosie, give her a break. That went over about as well as a lead balloon. Then I was accused of trying to shut her out of being with Rosie. No matter what I said or did or didn't say or didn't do, it wasn't right. I kept trying and it wasn't enough. It was like trying to dig my way out of a hole."

‘You’re out of this hole now, John. I’m proud of you for so many reasons. For putting up with me, for always being there for Rosie and I assure you what you’re doing with regards to taking care of her is enough. More than enough. She isn’t upset about you leaving the restaurant earlier,’ he said calmly. ‘Neither am I. Not now that I know… some of what you have been through. Thank you for telling me. And let me tell you that you most certainly are _not_ making any of us miserable. On the contrary, might I add,’ he assured him with a smile, taking a sterile needle and thread. ‘I’m proud of you for not yielding to the call of alcohol to soothe your nerves or dumb the pain. For coming back to me, for trying so hard to make us happy, for _making _us happy,’ he smiled. ‘This will hurt,’ he informed John before pressing the needle into John’s broken flesh and working diligently on stitching the wound, his nose slightly crunched up in concentration.  
  
Holding as still as possible while Sherlock worked John sighed deeply. It stung and hurt like hell but he much preferred Sherlock doing it than explaining all this to some doctor at the A&E. He sighed managing a weak smile and fighting back tears.   
"Thank you. That means a lot. I'm trying. God, I'm trying so hard. I just... I just want her to be happy and have a better childhood than Harry and I did. I know she will but... Sometimes I see and hear so much of him in me that it scares me... I don't want her to go through what we did..."

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. ‘Do you honestly think I would ever let you become… your father? John, you should know better. I can’t say that you won’t resemble him at some point in your life, but John. Surely you know it has to do with genetics rather than… I’m doing it wrong,’ he shook his head. ‘You might look like him eventually but I promise you it will be nothing more than your gene pool. You are _not_ your father nor will you become like him. Rosie is already happy, John. You only need to continue what you’re doing, simply bear in mind that you are allowed to need breaks and time for yourself. You don’t need to try so hard, John, my dear. I’m here,’ he concluded.

“And that's one of the reasons I came back. I knew you'd be here for me, for her. You're amazing with her. Whenever I need a little break you're always more than happy to keep her occupied while I catch my breath. She loves you. Loves being here. She's thriving here." John sighed deeply. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Don't know how I'll ever be able to tell you how much I love you for everything. You've been the steadiest thing in my life for a long time."

‘I’ll continue to be for as long as you want me, John,’ Sherlock smiled pressing a kiss against his forehead. ‘Don’t even try to imagine your life without me in it. That’s preposterous. _I’m_ the one who’s inclined to be dramatic for everything and anything according to everyone who’s ever met us. Don’t presume to take my part.’  
  
Laughing softly he leaned in to kiss Sherlock sweetly. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"   
  
‘Everything,’ he replied. ‘Everything you ever did, everything you said and didn’t, is what you did,’ he elaborated, smiling softly.  
  
John smiled in the ensuing silence. "I guess only one of us is allowed to be a drama queen at a time. Not sure what the world would do if both of us were off it at the same time. And I'm thinking that forever sounds pretty good. You and me against the rest of the world."

Carefully flexing his hand and looking at Sherlock's stitches he nodded. "They'll hold. Nice and neat. Couldn't have done a better job myself. Guess you'll just have to help me wash my hair and shower until the stitches come out."

‘I’m glad I didn’t botch this,’ Sherlock said waving his hand between them. ‘I’m here to serve,’ he answered a careful, mischievous glint in his eyes.


	6. Mutual Comfort, Unexpected Plan.

John was settled as comfortably as possible on the sofa with his hand propped up on the back to ease the throbbing and Sherlock finally curled up with him after fussing and waiting on him hand and foot. Sherlock had convinced him to take half a pain killer and had carefully massaged a lidocaine cream into his hand to ease the pain further. He was feeling a bit floaty and not that terrible. Nuzzling Sherlock's curls he smiled.    
‘How is it you always just know how to put all my broken pieces back together better than they were before? So bloody lucky to have you, you know. I didn't know where I belonged until I met you and stepped in here for the first time and then it all made sense. Sort of,’ he chuckled softly. ‘Thank you for seeing Rosie settled with Molly. Good to know she's in safe hands when one, or both, of us is falling apart. We need to do something for her. Promotion so she's her own boss and doesn't have to answer to people so much? I'm sure we'd have Greg's support since she helps his department so much. I'm sure Greg could sweet talk Mycroft into suggesting to the right person that she get promoted...’

His ear to John’s chest, Sherlock listened to the beating of his heart with a small smile on his lips, relishing the feel of John’s fingers through his hair, pleased that John had calmed down, that his anguish had abated and that he assumed a surer countenance.   
‘If I may be so honest, John, I haven’t felt home anywhere until I met you either. Chemistry. Atoms. Unstable chemicals. Too much disruption and their charge change, repelling the other. Once their electric charge is stable once more they attract, complete each other. I know this is too much of a scientific reasoning for such an abstract notion, John, but what I mean to say is that just like the unstable chemicals I was talking about you and I complete each other, making the resulting new compound stable. I imagine that’s how I can help you feel better – because I’m not complete without you.’    
He fell silent a moment, pondering on his own words.

John  gave a slightly breathless snorty giggle as he pressed a kiss to the top of Sherlock's head.   
‘I think I've had just enough medication for all of that to make perfect sense. I like it. And what little I remember of the hell that was chemistry classes for me, all of that you just said was spot on. Complete when we're together, better when we're together, stronger when we're together.’ 

Sherlock continued, answering  John’s prior statement. ‘Yes, I should think you’re right and Molly does deserve to be thanked for helping us – profusely, might I add. She’s been invaluable to me, and to you as well, I’d wager. Without needing to address such a request to Greg,’ he cringed, ‘a simple reminder to Mycroft that Lazarus wouldn’t have been a success had she informed you of the whys and wherefores should suffice. However the result should be the same as the one you propose. It’s a sound one.’

John nodded giving Sherlock's arm a squeeze.   
‘I think Greg's forgiven you for all that. Things are different now, better. For all of us. Time we did something for the one out of all of us who's had to handle the most with the least thanks. Molly'd be wonderful training new pathologists, patient and encouraging. And the added bonus of having you available to help them see things that they might overlook for some time until they get some real experience. I think she'd like it.’

‘Then I’ll send my dear brother a text telling him just that. Without forgetting to remind him of her involvement in his plan,’ he replied straightening up. ‘I highly doubt he would refuse, not when she’s had a major role to play for Queen and Country,’ he added, mocking and haughty. ‘What I do doubt is that anyone would consider me  _ teaching  _ a bonus. From what I hear one must not be… abrasive. However they went through med school. I hardly see the difference,’ he continued shrugging slightly. ‘I’m not sure even  _ she _ ’d consider my presence of any help. You know how I am with slow, learning people.’

John smiled gently pulling Sherlock back down in his arms to rest on his chest. ‘Well if Mycroft objects then we'll get Greg to sweet talk him into it. She deserves it for all she's done and keeps doing.’ Lightly running his hand up and down Sherlock's back he continued. ‘You'd be good at it. Teach them what they need to know so if we work with them later, they'll already know what we're looking for. And they won't be average. Smart enough to get through med school and pathology which is harder than almost anyone gives them credit for. And it'd just be you talking to them once or twice. They'll be in awe of you.’

‘I hardly believe they’d be in awe of me, John,’ he snorted. ‘I’m not one to be  _ nice _ or lenient towards anyone, my reputation with the Yard precedes me and Lord only knows what Sally Donovan could have told them,’ he continued, taking his phone out of his pocket and composing a quick text to his brother. ‘I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of  _ calling  _ him. He’ll phone if he wants details.’

John laughed waving his good hand. ‘Please. If they have any sense, they'll listen and take notes. They'll be med students, not police cadets. Molly'll talk you up. And I do plenty of the same on the blog.’ He nuzzled Sherlock's hair. ‘I'm sure your brother will get it all worked out.’

‘The same description doctor Stapleton gave about her role at Baskerville applies to him. He does have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies,’ Sherlock snorted. ‘Politics. Bureaucracy. The military. Research. Intelligence, to name but a few. Of course he’ll have it all worked out. Or, more accurately, have his P.A. work everything out for him. I do think however that Annabella… Anna? Andrea? Whatever her name is, I think she holds Molly in great esteem and will gladly have something professionally neat arranged for her.’   
He fell silent a moment. ‘Molly really is a… precious friend. I don’t doubt that she would speak highly of me – her… misplaced affections towards me notwithstanding. Past affections,’ he reflected. ‘I know you do it on your blog, as well. I still read it, after all – but I must say that your style hasn’t… improved much. It has a bit less unnecessary flourish, certainly,’ he chuckled. ‘That you would speak highly of me is to be expected – you’re not a man of much change, are you? Always been biased when it came to me,’ he grinned, bringing their noses together, brushing his lips against John’s in a tease.

John nodded gently tangling his fingers in Sherlock's soft curls and rubbing his scalp slowly letting the silky strands slip through his fingers. It was as soothing to him as it was to Sherlock.   
‘Mm... Anthea... That woman deserves the world's largest gift basket. She's very fond of Rosie as well. Lights up whenever she sees her. I'm sure she'll see to it that Molly gets a very nice position where she'll be appreciated.’ There was a moment’s silence while he lost himself in contemplating Sherlock’s eyes.    
‘What I think of you and how much I love you isn't going to change. It's only going to get deeper and stronger and better. Can't help it if I'm a bit biased toward you being a genius. A genius who helps people. People no one else can or often will help. And I've always loved that about you.’ Kissing him softly he chuckled. ‘High functioning sociopath my arse. You are anything but.’

Sherlock gave him a small smile. ‘Don’t you go letting on,’ he whispered. ‘Not more than you already do,’ he amended. ‘And no pictures. The hat photograph is enough,’ he complained. ‘You are aware I was simply stating a fact earlier and not voicing any kind of… protest. I couldn’t care less what people thought. They do little else but talk and judge, anyway,’ he shrugged.

‘Mm hate to break it to you, love, but I think more than a few people have caught on that you're not as cold-hearted as you seem. Especially anyone who's seen you with Rosie. You get so many looks from people when you're with her, talking to her, explaining things to her so patiently. Makes people like you all the more,’ John smiled pressing another kiss to the top of Sherlock's curls. ‘It's ok to care what people think. As long as you don't care too much. It only really matters what a few people who really love you think. And we all know you're a wonderful, kind person who wants to help people.’

‘Yes, but I’m different when I’m with Rosie. It’s sensible that I would be more patient with her than with anyone else as she is your daughter – in everyone else’s eyes. I know she’s  _ ours _ ,’ he hastened to clarify. ‘Of course, I know she is. More importantly she knows she is and that both of us will always be there for her, love her and would do anything to keep her safe. As you said, it only matters what the people who count think.’

Stroking his cheek softly John smiled. ‘It takes a great deal of patience to deal with a toddler when they're cranky and you're very patient with her. I don't care what people think about our little family. Rosie calls you Papa and that's how things are going to be. She knows you love her. I know you love her. She's ours. Your name's on all the papers. It's as official as it can be. Not that I care about that. She's ours.’

A soft, tender smile on his face, Sherlock took John’s good hand, brushed his fingers lightly against the back of it. ‘How do you intend to spend your afternoon and the subsequent time Molly kindly offered us by taking Rosie with her for the night if needed?’

Smiling he kissed him softly. ‘Hadn't really given much thought about it. This is pretty good though, just being curled up with you. Good thinking to put that cream on my hand. It's helping. A lazy afternoon and evening with you sounds perfect.’

‘Of course it’s helping,’ Sherlock scoffed softly. ‘I know how to numb the pain – I have collected enough data to know this,’ he whispered. ‘I’m glad that you approve of your own way to treat my work-related injuries,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m only thankful there was still an unopened tube in the first aid kit,’ he added rubbing circles on John’s back. ‘I agree,’ he continued after a short period of contemplation. ‘It is good to spend quiet quality time together like this without the fear of it being interrupted by the needs and demands of Rosie.’

‘Mm which is why I always tell parents that it's ok to get a sitter or have the kids stay over with someone and take a day or two off just to relax. We know Rosie's safe and having the time of her life getting spoilt by Molly. I wouldn't have wanted her to be here earlier...’ He shook his head. ‘Likely would have scared her and I never want that...’   
Holding Sherlock tighter he nuzzled his hair softly. ‘Can always count on you to take care of me.’ Shifting slightly he looked around trying to locate the muffled buzz of his phone. It probably wasn't Molly, but better safe than sorry. ‘Love, can you find my phone for me? Just in case it's Molly.’

Sherlock groaned when he heard the vibration of a nearby phone – John’s, as his was on silent. He had no need to be made aware of anyone contacting him and if anyone wanted and failed to contact him, they would phone John if they knew anything. They had been having such a nice, relaxed time, curled up against each other but he complied. There was no need to upset John in refusing him and, though not very likely, there  _ was _ a slight possibility Molly was phoning them. He walked to the sofa on which John’s jacket was, picked it up and fished John’s phone from under it after dislodging it from between the cushions where it had managed to slip as it had fallen from the inside pocket. He looked at the screen where a name was displayed, his eyebrow rising in surprise and turned around, informing John of the caller’s identity.

Raising a brow in reply John waved at him. ‘Go on and answer it. If she has to leave a message she'll keep calling until she talks to one of us. She's stubborn like that.’ He smiled tiredly patting the couch in clear invitation for Sherlock to curl up with him again even if he was on the phone. ‘You should know by now Watsons are incredibly stubborn.’

‘Persistent,’ he corrected before answering, making his way back to John. ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ he introduced himself. ‘John can’t come to the phone, he’s indisposed.’

Harry snorted with a grin, tone teasing. "Oh, I'm sure he is. You mind asking him if you two are free tonight? Got a last minute question about meeting Kate and her wife for dinner somewhere in London."

‘Hold on. I need to put you on speaker. He can’t hold the phone,’ he said pressing a button. ‘A last minute question… Might as well hear it too. If you don’t mind,’ he added.

John snorted a giggle. ‘Yes, Harry, what's so important that you had to call and interrupt some very serious cuddling from my detective?’

‘Ohhhh so  _ that’s _ what the kids are calling it these days, Johnny boy...’ she teased with Clara's giggles and scolding in the background. ‘We just wanted to see if you two were free tonight. Clara got a message from Kate that she and her wife are going to be in London and would love to have dinner somewhere. Called for two reasons. One, can you two, and Rosie, of course, come? And two, what's that Italian place you’re forever raving about?’

John shook his head with a smile looking at Sherlock. ‘We'll talk it over. Maybe we can come. And it's Angelo's. You'll love it. Everything on the menu is amazing.’

‘I, er… I don’t  _ cuddle _ ,’ Sherlock protested, deciding it was better to argue semantics than coming to a decision right there and then about meeting  _ Kate and her wife _ . He still had reservations about how well he would cope with meeting new people which he rationalised was not something out of the ordinary since he did so on a frequent basis. His heart however had a different opinion on the similarities between this dinner and what he had to do for his work.

John smiled softly at Sherlock's protest. ‘Mm if you say so. We'd love to join you, could it be any other night? Maybe even tomorrow? I broke a glass earlier and cut my hand up pretty good. Took a few stitches and I took half a pain pill.’

Harry was instantly alert. Something had seemed off about John from the start. ‘Sorry, no, we already asked since it's short notice for us too, but they're only going to be in for a few hours before jetting off to Japan, I think.’

John sighed. ‘We'll try... May have to cut out early because of my hand, but we'll try.’ He looked up at Sherlock who sighed and nodded.

‘It’s important for Harry, which makes it important to you,’ he said softly, lacing their fingers together. ‘We’ll be there.’

Squeezing Sherlock's hand John smiled. ‘We'll be there. What time should we meet you? Seven?’ Harry smiled clearly relieved to have someone on her side. ‘Thank you, Johnny. And you too, Sherlock. I promise, if it's terrible, you can leave.’

John kissed Sherlock's hand gently. ‘We'll hold you to that.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Sherlock echoed, relieved that he wouldn’t have to lie. Although he was very good at it, and despite John having been the one to suggest a police-related emergency, Sherlock knew what John’s thoughts about lying were.    
‘Is there anything we need to know prior to that dinner?’ he enquired, apprehension slightly colouring in his voice.

Harry smiled. ‘Kate's a lot like Clara from what I hear. Sweet, kind, but a backbone of steel when it gets down to it. Her wife's very posh, a bit hard to get to know, but adores Kate to the ends of the earth and back. I'm so glad you two will be there.’

John smiled. ‘Just glad you two are doing well, Harry. We'll be there,’ he gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze which he returned.

‘Partly a mystery, then. This makes that dinner… interesting. Still daunting, however. We’ll join you at seven at Angelo’s,’ Sherlock repeated before disconnecting the call. ‘Thank you for being understanding,’ he added, bringing John’s hand to his lips.

John smiled softly fingertips stroking over the sharp plane of Sherlock's cheekbone. ‘If it helps, I'm nervous too. This means a lot to Harry so I want it to go well. I like Clara a lot so if Kate's anything like her, we can handle it. And if it's too terrible, it'll give us something to laugh about later. The worst it could be would be some feminine version of Mycroft. Anything else should be bearable,’ he chuckled softly. ‘We'll get through this. I'll be there the whole time. Think we should get Rosie? I know she'd love to see Harry and Clara. And having a toddler who needs to get home and into bed would be a good excuse to leave early.’

‘Harry asked all three of us to come, John,’ he reminded him. ‘Of course we should get her. From what Harry told us about Kate’s wife, she does sound like a feminine version of Mycroft,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘I hope she’s not – that would prove a difficult challenge.’

John smiled. ‘If it's too terrible there's my aching hand to tend to and a toddler who will already have been up past her bedtime and have more excitement than she's used to. Not to mention the addition of a puppy who will need a walk to do his business. An excellent excuse for you to step out for a few minutes if you need to.’ Gently stroking the sharp plane of Sherlock's cheek he smiled. ‘If she's too terrible keep in mind that we'll only have to deal with her two more times. The rehearsal dinner and the actual wedding. If we can manage to be polite enough for a few hours each time then we're done and likely never to see them ever again. We can do this. We'll be there together.’

‘Agreed,’ he replied, after kissing John softly. ‘Let’s enjoy each other and get Rosie in a couple of hours. Inform Molly,’ he asked.

‘Mm sounds perfect. I could do with a few hours of cuddling my favourite detective,’ John smiled up at Sherlock. ‘Molly will be glad that we're all right. And Rosie will be over the moon to go to Angelo's again. She'll be thrilled to see Harry and Clara and show off Sultan.’

‘I certainly hope I don’t have any competition,’ he teased. ‘I’m the only one in the world, remember? You certainly are my one and only.’ He slightly scrunched up his nose. ‘Do forgive this… cliché, please. It seems these running emotions have made me… inclined to be maudlin and left you exhausted.’ He stood up, not letting go of John’s hand as he led him to their bedroom.

John smiled, emotionally wrung out. Squeezing Sherlock's hand he smiled. ‘Only one in the world, only one in my heart,’ he murmured softly. ‘We're both getting maudlin in our old age.’ Managing a smile he shook his head slightly. There was no telling what his detective had planned but he'd gladly go along with it.

‘We’re not  _ old _ , John,’ he protested, reproaching him slightly. ‘Come then,’ he said as they crossed the door to their bedroom. ‘Off with these,’ he gestured at the clothes John was wearing, ‘and onto the bed, face down. You need to relax,’ he said by way of explanation. When John was settled as instructed, Sherlock came up behind him and straddled him, sitting firmly on his buttocks. ‘I imagine the contact of your naked skin with my clothes is arresting,’ he said, voice low. ‘However, I  _ am _ aiming to get you to relax. It must be of no importance to you or cause any distraction,’ he added, passing his hands on John’s back, his touch becoming a little bit firmer to make his intent clearer.

John sighed trying to will his muscles to relax under Sherlock's strong hands. "Mm... Promise I'll try to relax and tune out distractions. You've done wonders for my shoulder. This is very nice. You spoil me, you know." He smiled at him. ‘Better than any therapy I got after I was injured.’

‘I’m glad,’ Sherlock replied, starting to knead into John’s back in earnest. ‘I am going to do wonders on you, John Watson, and leave you limp and sated,’ he whispered in his ear, bending over his back and letting the hotness of his breath linger for a second before he straightened once more, getting back to business, applying pressure with the pads of his fingers or the heels of his hands in circular motions. He gave particular attention to the more strained bundles of nerves at the back of his neck and at the bottom of his shoulder.

‘Wicked tease...’ John chuckled softly wincing occasionally when a tender spot was hit. Sherlock was as good at giving a massage as he was tuning his violin. ‘Amazing hands.’

‘Who says I’m teasing?’ he asked pressing his slowly growing erection against John’s backside. ‘I’m taking my time,’ he said, continuing his massage. ‘You’re not relaxed yet. Not enough, anyway,’ he explained. He relished having John under his hands, under his body… at his mercy. He revelled in bringing him to a state of complete relaxation where nothing counted but his words and his presence, where he was in charge of everything pertaining to John. His safety… his pleasure.

John groaned chuckling a bit. ‘Mm  _ not _ fair… You are  _ not _ playing fair right now... Love your hands. All those years of carefully tuning your violin have translated very well into massage. Especially on me. If I'd had any idea you were this good at it I would have made a move a lot sooner,’ he teased. ‘I only love you for your incredible massage skills...’ Wiggling his hips teasingly he rubbed against Sherlock who gently slapped his buttocks.

‘No,’ he reproached him firmly. ‘You’re not to move unless I say so and you’d better have a better, stronger reason to love me,’ he admonished. ‘Hold still,’ he instructed. ‘I’m going to concentrate on relaxing the muscles in your nape,’ his voice was warm as he bent against John’s back, pressing once more into the cleft of his arse. ‘Good,’ he complimented. ‘Listen to me very carefully, John,’ he started in a serious voice after a time exacting soft groans and subtle moans out of John. ‘When I tell you to, you are going to turn over and face me, lying on your back. You are  _ not _ to close your eyes or speak but are encouraged to express the sensations you are experiencing. If you want or need me to stop… Please say so. Do you agree to my terms?’ he asked, gravity in his voice as he straightened up, taking most of his weight off John so he wouldn’t feel physically pressured into doing something he didn’t want to.

John raised an eyebrow with the hint of a smirk. It was always interesting to see this side of Sherlock. ‘Yes, Sir,’ he murmured with a smile. ‘I understand and agree. Thank you, love. Am I allowed to turn over now? Because I'd really like to kiss you now. Unless that's not allowed,’ he teased.

‘Need I already remind you what you are not to do once you agreed to my terms, John?’ he replied sternly, shaking his head. ‘Voicing suggestions falls into the category of speaking, does it not?’ He moved onto John’s side, tracing his fingers along John’s back as he did so. ‘You may turn over now, John. And  ** _I_ ** am going to kiss you. I advise you not to soil my trousers while I plunder your mouth and caress your body. Should you fail, not only will you take my suit into dry cleaning but you also will inform whoever is behind the counter of the  _ detailed _ circumstances under which the unfortunate event befell my garments. I  _ will  _ know if you don’t, John,’ he asserted, looking into his eyes before straddling John, inching their faces closer and dropping light kisses at the corners of his mouth, nipping at his lower lip.

John nodded giving Sherlock a teasing grin before kissing him slowly while being careful not to rub against him. Not that he'd particularly care about taking Sherlock's suit to the cleaners and informing them what had happened to it, but it was much better to prove that he could follow directions and behave himself. Nudging his nose gently he smiled clearly feeling better about things.

‘You’re doing well, John,’ Sherlock praised, his large hands roaming over John’s body, paying particular attention to the fine toned muscles of his stomach. ‘Delicious,’ he breathed into John’s ear as he bit gently at his neck and, encouraged by the tremors and soft moans under him, applied more pressure to his kiss, marking John with what would soon turn into a lovely bruise.

‘You are mine, John. Don’t think you would ever do well to refute that.’ He took possession of John’s both wrists in a strong grip, grounding him, pinning him on the mattress. ‘You can’t hurt me. I won’t let you,’ he growled. ‘Give me pleasure, however…’ he purred as he grinded against John. ‘I  _ strongly _ encourage it,’ he continued, his voice low and deep before he fiercely kissed John with tongue, teeth and passion.

John groaned deeply tipping his chin to give Sherlock better access to his neck. He'd be sporting a bright purple mark that would just barely be visible over the collar of his shirt. Yes, of course he was all Sherlock's. Of course he was. Moaning he returned Sherlock's kiss eagerly trying to convey another apology for hurting him and another promise that it would  _ never _ happen again.

Under him John was responsive, clearly invested in Sherlock’s taking charge of their sexual encounter.  _ A soldier. All the better to follow orders. Despite his rank a captain still has to refer and obey his commanding officer. _

He slackened his grip on John’s wrists but didn’t let go, showing that he was in command, that he was strong, that he trusted John – and that he was solid enough for the both of them. He broke the kiss, panting, fixing John’s eyes with ardent desire, searching for any sign alerting to something wrong.    
Flinching slightly John avoided Sherlock's intense gaze. But he  _ had _ hurt him. Badly. He'd done everything possible to fix things and to treat Sherlock very gently and to especially show him pleasure.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s all right,’ Sherlock promised, his voice calm and steady as he entwined their fingers together, maintaining unblinking eye contact. ‘I’ve got you and you’re not going anywhere. Nor am I, whatever the reason may be. Besides,’ he continued in a teasing tone, ‘you do seem to be involved in something that leaves you indisposed to doing… anything. Or  _ anyone _ , for that matter,’ he added thrusting against John’s engorged penis.

Blinking John couldn't help but giggle. Trust Sherlock to cut through all the bullshit and make him feel better about everything. Giving Sherlock's hands a squeeze he smiled slowly. ‘Mm impossible to think of almost anything when you're here and keeping me occupied with  _ very _ pleasant thoughts and feelings. God you have no right feeling and looking so damn good,’ he husked. ‘You look incredibly sexy when you're all in charge.’

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. ‘So you are actually a- disobeying a pre-established, agreed to condition or, if you prefer, a  _ direct order _ ,’ he growled ‘and b- implying I am not always sexy. Disrespect and insubordination,’ he explicated disappointment in his voice. ‘That’s worthy of punishment,’ he grunted, straightening up and removing himself from John’s inviting, naked body before he would turn the situation around and have Sherlock on his back, pinned down on the mattress. ‘I was going to take my time,’ he said removing his jacket and the rest of his clothes, ‘however you leave me no choice but to proceed immediately with rodgering you. Take the lube in the drawer,’ he continued, indicating the bedside table with a nod as he finished taking his clothes off. ‘Prepare yourself for me, but stay on your back. I want you to look at me when I take what’s mine,’ he explained, his voice a low rumble that he knew John was partial to.

John shivered at the deep rumble of Sherlock's voice. That tone always left him barely able to think. Raising an eyebrow slightly he shrugged before giving Sherlock a crisp salute with a wink. Shifting a bit careful of his aching hand he found the small bottle of lube from the drawer. Taking his time to prepare himself he moaned deeply. Maybe, just maybe, he was showing off for Sherlock just a little.

Sherlock observed John’s every movement, the rubbing of his lube-coated fingers on his arsehole, the display he put on while fingering himself, opening himself with his legs spread open for Sherlock to see. His own hand went to hold and tug his erect prick so aroused and stimulated he was by the sight of John’s thorough preparation and the sounds, the lovely, decadent sounds he was making. Sherlock swallowed hard.

‘You’re not to touch yourself,’ he breathed, forcing the words out, pleasantly perturbed by John’s ministrations on himself. He walked purposely towards John’s offered, willing body. ‘I’m going to take care of that.’

He knelt between John’s legs, let his own fingers brush against his lover’s rim before guiding himself into John’s hot arse. He pushed softly, breaching him almost immediately.  _ Thorough preparation… _

‘You… did well,’ he husked as he stilled momentarily, giving John time to adjust before he started moving again at a fast pace.

It had taken almost all the reserve John had not to touch himself for Sherlock and tease him a bit. He moaned eagerly arching into Sherlock's touch. But having Sherlock pushing into him, filling him was so much better. It was good Sherlock hadn't given him too much time to adjust or he might have started thinking again. Right now, not thinking was good. Very good. The quick pace also kept him from starting to think too much. There was just the incredibly perfect feeling of Sherlock thrusting deep and fast.

The sensations John’s body and reactions stirred were intoxicating and encouraging, spurring him to continue with the same ardour. He took a strong hold on John’s good shoulder, his other hand pressed hard on his hip.

‘How does it feel, John?’ he grunted. ‘Having… me inside, possessing you…’ he continued, breathing against his neck. ‘Permission to speak, Watson,’ he added when all that was forthcoming were loud moans from John.

‘About bloody time...’ John moaned tangling a hand in Sherlock's curls and kissing him eagerly. ‘Feels bloody amazing. You feel incredible inside me. Love how this feels, how you feel,’ he husked arching against him. He hadn't always been very comfortable with bottoming. But it was a whole other story with Sherlock. With Sherlock it felt right. Not at all awkward or uncomfortable. It seemed things were clicking and falling into place without too many bumps in the road. ‘You are amazing. Beautiful.’

A smile appeared on Sherlock’s face at John’s praise, his already flushed upper body turned a darker shade of red. ‘Delicious… won’t be tight for long…’ He moved into John faster, harder, looking for a particular spot that always sent sparks of pleasure when touched. ‘How… do you like… that?’ he groaned, panting with exertion.

John panted kissing him eagerly, winding a leg around Sherlock's waist and arching in to every thrust. ‘Fuck, you feel amazing... So big,’ he moaned deeply. ‘Love how you feel in me. Always feels so good.’ Nibbling on Sherlock's lip he pressed their foreheads together. ‘Love you so bloody much...’

‘So do I… John… fuck you’re so good!’ he exclaimed, crashing his mouth against John’s teasing lips, pressing his body closer, shifting ever so slightly to have more purchase on the bed as he rocked hard more than he pistoned into John. ‘Mine. Always. Say it,’ he growled against his lips.

‘Always yours, Sherlock. You know that. All yours.’ John promised tangling his uninjured hand in Sherlock's sweat dampened curls and shifting slightly under him. ‘That's it. You feel so good. Just like that, love. Don't stop,’ he panted as he pulled him deeper. ‘Love you.’

‘Don’t intend to,’ he grunted. ‘Too… Love making you… feel good,’ Sherlock breathed against John’s ear, nuzzling at his neck, keeping a hard, steady pace but releasing a bit of the iron grip he had on John’s shoulder and hip. ‘Speaking of…’ he trailed off, rubbing his lower stomach on John’s prick.

John smiled nuzzling into Sherlock's curls. ‘Mmm... you're always going above and beyond to make me feel good. Always have. Always will. That's just you. Never been so good. Lucky me.’ Arching into Sherlock's rubbing eagerly he moaned. ‘Fuck! If you keep all this up I'm not going to be able to last nearly as long as I'd like.’

‘Certainly hope so,’ he grunted, pressing against John as he continued penetrating him, the calf on his backside encouraging him to go deeper. Sherlock took hold of John’s wrists, held them above his head. ‘I do so love having you here. Pinned down. Under me. At my mercy,’ he growled, looking down on John’s flushed face, leering on his naked, sweaty body. He held his wrists in a firm grip, lowered a hand to circle John’s prick.

John bucked into Sherlock's touch with a sharp hiss of pleasure. ‘Your hands...’ he managed to gasp trying to keep his eyes open to watch the wonder that was Sherlock. ‘Yours. All yours. Always. From the minute I laid eyes on you. Love being yours.’ He lifted his head to kiss Sherlock passionately. ‘Mine. Just as much as I'm yours.’

‘Are you trying to take…? Control there, John?’ he chuckled darkly. ‘As you may have… noticed…  _ I _ am the one… taking,’ he said, tightening his fist around John as he pressed their foreheads together to look firmly John in the eye, an intensity to his gaze that had everything to do with love and lust rather than his usual sharp observing, deducing focus.

‘Nope. Just stealing a kiss,’ John panted lips brushing against Sherlock's lightly. ‘Can take all you want, have all you want, all yours anyway,’ he murmured softly. ‘Gladly, willingly.’ Being the direct focus of all Sherlock's attention, especially like this, was something incredibly intense. ‘Incredible...’ John breathed softly.

A smile spread on Sherlock’s slightly parted lips. ‘Oh, I hope you’re more than “glad” of my… I have to say… You’re more than simply deserving my attentions,’ he added bending to kiss John fully, hungrily. ‘You’ll always be the focus of my attention, John,’ he rasped against his ear, before nibbling on it.

‘Damn well better have your focus and attention,’ he husked clenching tightly around Sherlock and nipping his lip. Chuckling breathlessly he nuzzled Sherlock's sweat darkened curls. ‘Very glad...’

‘Yes… Oh yes… I can feel that,’ he groaned as John’s muscles contracted around him. ‘The things you do to me… You have no idea…’ he let go of John’s wrists and lowered himself against his chest, feeling the beats of their hearts. He slowed the pace of his thrusts that became undulating movements, an expression of the burning passion John had stirred within him.

‘Beautiful...’ John murmured softly bringing his bandaged hand to gently caress Sherlock's cheek and comb through his damp curls slowly. ‘So beautiful. Inside and out.’ Pressing a kiss to his temple he kept his legs wrapped tightly around him and wringing the other arm to drape across his shoulders lightly tracing the thin lines of scars. ‘Love you. Love you so much,’ he panted softly, eliciting a soft moan and a shiver from Sherlock.

‘Don’t…’ he started in a barely audible voice.  _ Scars… _ ‘Not close enough, John. Let me…,’ he whispered, sneaking a hand under John’s back, urging him to turn over.

‘Love you. Love all of you. Both got scars. Shows how much we went through to get here,’ he murmured softly cupping Sherlock's cheek. Letting himself be turned over he moaned deeply.

Sherlock kissed and licked John’s nape before nipping it gently. ‘You’re mine. You’re safe,’ he declared running his hands along John’s sides, cupping his arse. ‘I will protect you, I promise,’ he continued reverently, pushing gently as he entered him again. ‘Ah, John…’ he purred, pressing a kiss against his partner’s ear, draping himself over him.

John snuggled into him holding tightly to Sherlock's hand and pressing it to his heart. ‘I love you. I love you. Always safe with you. Always,’ he moaned.

‘Always,’ Sherlock confirmed, slowly rocking into John, pressing, holding his body closer against him. ‘I’ve always loved you and don’t plan on stopping. I trust you know that,’ he husked, his voice steady.

Nodding he pressed kisses to Sherlock's hand. ‘I know. I know. Always knew it'd be like that. Always there when I need you.’ What had he ever done without Sherlock? When they weren't together everything went sideways. Coming home to Baker Street with Rosie would always be one of his best decisions.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Of course, I am, John. It doesn’t matter it’s taken us so long to realise what we could be… We always were headed towards each other… Protecting the other…’ he whispered as he continued rocking into John. ‘We’ll keep on doing everything together, protecting and loving,’ he murmured tenderly taking hold of John’s bicep, caressing it with his thumb. ‘I really am happy that you came back to me. Both of us, together, no matter what. Against the rest of the world.’

‘Protecting and loving...’ John echoed softly with a pant rocking back into Sherlock's slow thrusts. ‘Always together. Us against the rest of the world. Always better together. Always. Always come back to you. No matter what. We belong together.’

Sherlock panted, holding John’s hand tight and intensifying his thrusts as John clenched his muscles around him, his own orgasm building rapidly. ‘We do. I’ll hold you. Close,’ he gasped against John’s ear.

‘Always,’ John panted pressing back into Sherlock's thrusts. ‘I know. Close too. Please,’ he husked, squeezing Sherlock's hand tightly.

‘Yes,’ he rasped, increasing the speed of his movements. ‘I can feel… Hold on to me… Together,’ he grunted, lowering his hand to grip at John’s hips to give him more purchase as he rose, pulling John’s waist upwards. ‘Touch yourself… Let go, John. Come,’ he encouraged.

John gasped sharply gripping Sherlock's hand tightly as he panted hips eagerly snapping to meet Sherlock's strong thrusts. Moaning deeply he stroked himself in time with Sherlock's deep thrusts. ‘Yes, love, yes, please... Together…’

His words drowned in moans and groans as Sherlock chased his climax, thrusting vigorously, pounding into John, claiming him as he groaned his pleasure, before collapsing on his back, breathing heavily, giving a last few lazy thrusts to help them ride through the wave of ecstasy. 

John panted harshly blinking at the white spots in his vision as he clenched tightly around Sherlock. ‘Feel what you do to me...’ he growled wrapping one of Sherlock's hands around his cock. ‘Fuck!’ Panting he thrust into his hand lasting only seconds more after Sherlock came. Shivering under him he moaned softly arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

A comfortable silence settled as the two men caught their breaths, their bodies a tangle of limbs, Sherlock draped over John’s body in a sated bliss. The air in the room was warmer after their exertion but still Sherlock shivered and lazily, blindly groped for the end of the sheet to cover them both, his movements somewhat limited as he kept as much of his body as possible on John.

John shivered curled close to Sherlock as he slowly came down. Shifting as little as possible he stole a kiss. ‘I love you.’ Pulling Sherlock closer to him, John smiled at Sherlock's ability to ground him and pull him out of the darkest places.

‘Love you, too,’ Sherlock whispered back, draping the sheet over their heads. ‘Now sleep, my dear,’ he continued in a murmur as he put his arm over John’s back, taking his hand and holding it tightly. He shifted the leg he had over John so that their pelvises were aligned. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up.’

Wiggling against him comfortably John nodded with a soft moan. ‘Mm good... Much better...’ Just a short nap he promised himself. A bit of a rest to help everything settle back into place. Maybe if he didn't sleep too long he could return the favour. The idea of being in Sherlock and filling him was definitely thrilling.

Sherlock smiled, closing his eyes as John settled against him, knowing that he was exhausted and happy. He had not quite expected this situation to arise but he was glad it did: John was undeniably better than he’d been when Sherlock found him at the flat. _ Intimate relations to make things better… The wheel turns… nihil novi sub sole. _

John dozed lightly with Sherlock curled around him. This probably hadn't been the healthiest of coping mechanisms, but it worked for them. They might not be good at explaining things in words they seemed to have a knack for working through physically. Sherlock had got him through this and he'd get Sherlock through the tough spots too.

***

The faint buzzing sound of the alarm he had set up earlier went off – it wouldn’t do not to be decent when Molly brought their little girl back. Sherlock silenced it and turned to kiss John on the shoulder.

‘Stay here. Enjoy the rest a little longer. You need it,’ he whispered as he got up to make his way to the bathroom.

‘Molly should arrive soon – but you have time to take a shower before,’ he announced twenty minutes later, clad in nothing but a towel and his hair still damp from the shower. ‘No. I’m actually coming in to  _ put _ clothes  _ on _ ,’ he replied to John’s interested look before deciding on a clean shirt and a fresh pair of pants.

John pouted a bit with a grin teasing at the corners of his mouth. ‘Damn. Suppose I'll just have to take a raincheck for later... Wear that deep blue shirt. You know, the one that sometimes looks blue, green, or purple depending on the light. I love how it makes your eyes look.’ Getting out of bed slowly, aching a bit all over he stole a kiss. ‘Pick something out for me. I'm sure whatever I picked you'd insist I change out of anyway. Might as well save a step.’ Taking a quick shower while trying to keep his hand dry he emerged with just enough time to get dressed before Molly arrived. ‘I think you're going to have to rewrap my hand. Things got a bit soggy.’

‘I checked the weather. It’s not going to rain,’ Sherlock replied as he went to retrieve disinfectant and more gauze to wrap John’s hand. ‘You said you’ll take a raincheck later,’ he commented, cutting through John’s bandaged hand with the pair of scissors from the first aid kit. ‘I’ve laid your clothes there,’ he gestured towards the chair in the corner. From it were absent the usual jumper and casual jeans John would have immediately gone to.

John suppressed a sigh. It really had been silly of him to hope Sherlock would let him get by with one of his pairs of 'good' jeans and a nice jumper.   
"You got me that gorgeous new jumper and you're not going to let me wear it?" He raised an eyebrow slightly. Flexing his hand experimentally he nodded. Sherlock's stitches were holding well and things didn't hurt too much. There was a slight sting when the stitches pulled and an ache but nothing he couldn't tolerate.   
"A raincheck, love. Means that we'll just have to make time for what I wanted to do to you later since we didn't have time now."

‘Don’t be dense, John. You’ve already worn it and cashmere needs to be cleaned often. I’m afraid it’s not the type of clothing you can wear two days in a row,’ he explained. ‘I am pleased that you wanted to wear it. However, you’re a grown man. Admittedly not very tall, but – don’t you think it’s high time to forfeit the habit of hiding behind your clothes? A pair of black jeans, a tight fitting shirt with that coat my parents saw fit to offer you – and which is, I admit, rather fashionable as well as… practical. You will be dashing,’ he continued, observing John flexing his hand. ‘Oh. I had not realised you were not speaking literally. I did wonder why you wanted to check whether there’d be rain in the forecast,’ he added thoughtfully as the door downstairs creaked open and the voices of Molly and Mrs Hudson were drowned by Rosie’s squeals of glee.

John chuckled. ‘Suppose if I can “suggest” what clothes I'd like to see you in then you can “suggest” things for me. At least you still let me wear jeans. Can't stand the scratchy fabric dress trousers.’ He wrinkled his nose before smiling. "Well let's hope Rosie's sufficiently tired tonight and goes to bed without too much of a fuss so we can see about that rain check."

Molly opened the door letting Rosie and Sultan dash in. "Daddy! Papa! We's home!"

"Rosie, dear, you should wait. Let me help you get your jacket off and you can help Sultan get his off too..." But Rosie was already making her way down the hall with Sultan on her heels. Molly sighed with a smile. "Sherlock, John, toddler and puppy incoming!"

‘I know. You’ll – ah, John. I think you would do well to hurry up getting dressed,’ Sherlock commented in a chuckle, disappearing into the living room as he heard Molly’s call.

‘John! Hurry! I can’t ward off the tsunami for too long!’ he exclaimed as he opened his arms wide to give Rosie a hug. ‘Oh, it’s cold outside,’ he noted as he pressed his hand against Rosie’s cheek. ‘Thank you, Molly. I trust everything went well and her ladyship here didn’t have you running after her or her puppy all afternoon?’

Rosie snuggled into him with a giggle. "Cold! Lotsa snow! We maded a snowman!" She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Sultan chase snowballs too! Where Daddy?" 

John smiled wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so glad you and Sultan had fun with Aunt Molly." Frowning she took in his bandaged hand. "Daddy gots boo boo!"

John nodded letting her see it. "I broke a glass and got cut. It's all better now. Papa but a bandage on it."

‘Oh you  _ made _ a snowman? Did you give her a name? You’ll have to show us later,’ Sherlock commented as Rosie looked closely at John’s freshly bandaged hand. ‘Don’t worry. Your Daddy will be fine. He’s a doctor but I’ll take care of him. He’s terrible at taking care of himself.’

Molly smiled hanging up Rosie's coat that had been tossed off in the middle of the living room floor.   
"Oh they were fine. We had a lovely time in the park. They quite enjoyed themselves. I'm glad to see you two doing so well." Looking back and forth between them her smile grew. "And it seems you two got everything worked out too."

He nodded, pleased to hear that Rosie had enjoyed her afternoon and had not been upset by John’s abrupt departure from lunch – or his own quickly afterwards. ‘We, we did, yes,’ he replied. ‘I reminded John that he had no cause for worry with me. I think he got the message,’  he added when John absently touched the mark underneath his collar.

John's cheeks flushed and he shot Sherlock a wicked grin. "Yeah, I got the message and I'll be remembering it for some time. He made sure of that."

He smiled at Rosie. "Papa's very good at taking care of me. My hand will be good as new in a few days. You can be his assistant tonight and help put a fresh bandage on it."

Holding his hand carefully she kissed it gently, just like he and Papa did to all her boo boos. Looking up at Sherlock she nodded. "I help. We fix Daddy hand."

‘I do need an assistant, that’s true. And you, young lady, are the perfect assistant for that task,’ Sherlock replied to Rosie with a smile. ‘It’s very kind of you to volunteer,’ he added.

Molly smiled. "Well I'm certainly glad everyone's feeling better. And don't worry, Rosie wasn't very worried. I told her you two had to come back here for a bit and clean the flat while she and I got to play in the snow with Sultan."

‘We did clean the flat,’ he answered. ‘A bit,’ he amended. ‘Thank you for taking care of her,’ he continued, extending his hand to squeeze hers in a rare spontaneous display of affection. ‘We really appreciate it,’ Molly smiled returning the squeeze. ‘Now,’ he continued, turning around to take his violin for no other purpose than to calm his slowly building nerves, ‘we must get Rosie ready for that dinner tonight ,’ absently playing with the bow in his hand.

"I don't mind staying a bit to help get her dressed and fix her hair."

John smiled. "Thanks. Still getting used to the stitches. Sherlock did a good job. Doesn't hurt much."

‘Hm. Glad I did,’ Sherlock mumbled, resting his violin under his chin before he started playing a short, soothing melody which was not unlike a lullaby. He continued playing on a loop, closing his eyes as he felt calm washing over him.

Molly smiled. "I'll get her ready. Just let me know what you want her in and I'll try to convince her to wear it."

John laughed. "Let her choose. It's fine. She can show you all the things she got for Christmas."

‘She did get a few things, yes,’ Sherlock added. ‘Be wary of not letting her babbling steal your time – or ours. We do have a time to meet,’ he continued his voice a suspiciously steady tone. John smiled gently running his hand down Sherlock's back. "It's going to be fine. I'm sure they're very nice. We won't stay too long. Just long enough to be polite."

Molly smiled. "Oh I think we can manage to get her ready in under two hours,’ she teased listening to Rosie chatter as they headed upstairs with Sultan bouncing behind.

Molly helped Rosie pick out clothes happily fussing over Hedgie, Otter, and Bee along with her new books and other toys. Putting Rosie's hair up in pigtails tied with bits of ribbon and helping her with her shoes and a matching ribbon for Sultan she helped her back downstairs.   
"See, that didn't take us too long. She wanted to wear her Belle leggings and a very nice jumper."

Sherlock had stopped playing, turned around and rested his head against John’s shoulder. As soon as he heard Molly and Rosie come back he’d straightened up, but chose to keep close to John. Picking at some invisible thread on his own jacket, he briefly turned his head to acknowledge their return.    
‘Thank you, Molly. Isn’t it a blessing that Rosie doesn’t put up a fight when it comes to do her hair? That’s a very good idea, to show off your wonderful presents,’ he praised Rosie. ‘Well. I suppose John and I had better put on our own shoes and don our coats so that we can start heading there,’ he let out a defeated sigh.

John smiled at Rosie. "Don't you look pretty! Did you thank Molly for helping you get ready and taking you and Sultan to the park?"

Nodding she hugged his leg still a bit worried over his hand. "Yeah."

Stroking her curls John smiled. "My hand is fine. Papa took good care of it."

"Kissy make all better?" She looked up at him little fingers tentatively curling around one of his. 

"Of course it will, angel. And Papa gave it a kiss when it was all bandaged up. You can give it a kiss too and that will make it feel much better."

Molly smiled. "Any time you two need me to watch her for a bit, just let me know. It's never any trouble. If things get difficult tonight I can create an emergency."

She nodded to Sherlock. "I'm sure it'll be fine though."

Sherlock nodded his assent, looping his scarf around his neck.

‘Well, John? Are you ready, then?’ he inquired moments later after Molly had departed. ‘I believe it is time for us to go,’ he said extending his hand to Rosie who grabbed it eagerly.

‘Don’t pull too much on my hand, Rosie. It would make everything difficult if I were to have an elongated muscle on top of your Daddy’s injured hand.’

Beside him John was walking, his earlier breakdown vanquished. Completely relaxed, he had a smile on his face, rosy coloured cheeks from the cold and crinkling eyes at the sight of Sherlock being so at ease with Rosie. He could however discern the tiniest indication of tension in Sherlock. His coat collar was turned up and, even though it could be as a protection against the cold, it was highly unlikely given that he was also wearing his warm, cashmere navy blue scarf. He held himself stiffly which given their earlier activity was a rather heavy clue that something was… if not wrong, at least not quite right. He walked closer to Sherlock and took his other hand in silent support.

They were approaching Angelo’s and Sherlock would only get more anxious even if he knew that Harry had asked to book the table nearest the window out of concern for John’s PTSD and Sherlock’s… opposition to changes.

Behind the windowpane Harry and Clara were already sitting, animatedly talking with two other persons whose faces were still unclear. However, the mannerisms of the red-haired woman and especially those of her brunette companion, holding herself straight and delicately passing her own fingers against her neck were everything but.

He froze.


	7. A Disturbance in the Force, or: A Challenging Dinner

As they walked with Rosie between them, chattering about visiting the park with Molly, John tried to ease Sherlock’s worrying.

‘Sherlock…’ he murmured softly. ‘It’s going to be fine. Try not to work yourself into knots over it. It’s just dinner. A brief dinner. And at least we know the food’ll be good.’

Glancing at the window he gave a wave to Harry hoping she wouldn’t question the bandage on his hand too much. Noticing the two women sitting with Clara and Harry, he frowned.

It couldn’t be. The universe couldn’t hate him that much.

‘Bloody hell…’ he groaned. All he’d wanted was a nice dinner with Sherlock, Rosie, Harry, Clara and their friends and now… _ this. _

Rosie blinked up at him, her head cocked as she looked back and forth between him and Sherlock. Something wasn’t right.

‘Try not to work yourself up over this. It’s just dinner,’ he repeated snidely. ‘With Irene Adler,’ he added after a poignant pause. ‘Well. After you, Captain. You’re the one who’s leading us into this battle.’

‘Oh like I knew it would be Irene bloody Adler of all the people in the world,’ John snipped. ‘She's not exactly my favourite person in the world either, you know.’

The bell at the entrance of the restaurant tinted when they entered, and all four women turned towards them: Clara was wearing a joyful smile, Kate was smiling shyly, apologies written on her face, Irene was sporting an air of smugness about her and Harry was being completely taken aback at both men’s tense features and frowned eyebrows.

Spotting Harry and Clara, Rosie bounced into the restaurant with Sultan on her heels, all but ignoring the other two women and the unfolding drama.

‘Sherlock, darling. We’re having dinner at last!’

‘I wasn’t aware you’d be here.’

‘Wife of the chief bridesmaid,’ she winked, indicating Kate.

‘Oh, you, you two know each other?’ Clara interrupted, curious to learn something about Irene and Sherlock.

‘Unfortunately.’

‘Sherlock, darling! Where are your manners?’ Irene reproached him.

‘Irene,’ he nodded, locking eyes with her. ‘How unavoidable to see you.’

‘Lovely to see you, too, as ever!’ she teased, getting up to lock her arms around his neck. ‘I’ve been hearing that John…’

John bristled with anger as Irene wound her arms around Sherlock's neck.   
‘Irene. Really wish I could say it was a pleasure seeing you again... You know Sherlock doesn't like being touched by most people. I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you let go,’ he all but growled.

‘Ohoh, so you’re the knight in shining armour coming to rescue his _ Prince _…’

Glancing at Irene Kate sighed. ‘Irene, please...’

‘Rosie! Look at you! You’re wearing such pretty clothes and grown so much since I last saw you!’ Clara exclaimed, interrupting Irene who seemed to be getting started on a teasing roll. Irene was a very nice, gorgeous woman with a sharp intellect and a keen attention to details but had a tendency to overlook things of importance when she was focussed on something she considered more important. As whatever was happening there.

She stood up to crouch in front of Rosie and hugged her fiercely while the toddler snuggled into her embrace. ‘I’m so glad to see you! Sorry for borrowing your Papa and your Daddy the other day. They’ve helped me quite a lot, haven’t they Harry?’

‘Is otay. I share. Dey help lots,’ she nodded curls bobbing around her face. I gots a puppy! Dis Sultan.’ Patting Sultan she smiled brightly hugging Harry tightly and climbing up to sit in her lap. Head cocked she looked at Kate. ‘Pweddy hair. Me Wosie. Dis Sultan.’

Kate smiled clearly charmed. ‘Hello there Rosie. And Sultan. I'm Kate. It's very nice to meet both of you. Your Aunt Clara and I went to school together. Since we're friends she wanted me to be at the wedding.’

Taking in the tense posture of both of them Harry gently shifted Rosie to Clara's lap. The bandage on John's hand hadn't gone unnoticed. She made her way over lightly putting her hand on John's shoulder. ‘John, Sherlock, I'm so glad you two brought Rosie and suggested this lovely place. Come sit down and we'll have a bite to eat. You can tell me what happened to your hand.’

Sherlock took a step back away from Irene’s hands, his back ramrod straight, his head held up high to maintain an air of superiority and not let his discomfort become apparent.

‘I trust you like the place, then,’ he replied.

‘Oh yes! Very much so. You didn’t tell us you were friends with the owner,’ she chided him teasingly.

‘For the love of… I hope Angelo’s not been…’

‘Sharing your every secret? No, that’d be John’s job,’ she winked at him. ‘But I doubt he’d ever say anything indiscreet,’ she added in a reassuring tone.

‘The British government couldn’t make him say anything he wouldn’t share,’ he replied proudly.

‘Ah, yes. The infamous Mycroft Holmes. The Ice Man, as I recall our common friend called him. Tell me, Sherlock darling, is he still as cold as I remember him to be or has he begun to thaw just as your own nickname no longer applies?’

‘There clearly is history between the two of you,’ Clara commented, bouncing Rosie on her knees.

‘Not nearly enough,’ Irene replied, touching his arm.

‘If _ I _ recall, Irene, you’ve lost that game before it even started,’ Sherlock countered, ignoring her remark about Mycroft and taking his arm away. ‘I’m sorry, Harry, Clara. You wanted us here to become acquainted with your chief bridesmaid and her wife. Unbeknownst to you, we already are. We can’t…’

He looked at the absolute look of joy on Rosie’s face at being in her aunt’s arms. Pain and regret twisted his features. ‘I can’t.’

‘Sherlock. Please. I’m sure you can,’ Clara softly pleaded. ‘And I’m positive the two of you can put aside whatever feud there is between you, if only for a few hours,’ she added.

The look of pleased smugness was fading from Irene’s face as she realised that she had come on too strong to Sherlock and had miscalculated the negative consequences of their acquainrtance. Of her previous connection to James Moriarty and the resulting consequences of her involvement. She had been aiming at bringing John and Sherlock together but had instead unwittingly worked on bringing them further apart; fuelling John’s irrational jealousy, forcing Sherlock to push him and everyone else away, contributing to James Moriarty’s rise and his own fake demise.

She took his hand and squeezed it lightly, still too proud to utter an apology even after she’d begged for his help so many years ago.

Kate sighed making her way over to the group. ‘John, Sherlock, I'm very sorry about this. Of course if we'd known, we would have let you know so it wouldn't be such a shock. Irene, please, let's sit down. We can get through this like civilised adults.’ She smiled. ‘Your little girl is absolutely precious.’

John grunted glaring at Irene. ‘There's a time and a place and this is not either one. I'm doing this for Harry because she asked me. I'll be polite but that's it. And I'd advise you to keep your hands to yourself.’ He glanced up at Sherlock. ‘If you say go, we'll go. Rosie can enjoy dinner with her aunts. We'll go get fish and chips then come get her in a bit.’

‘Yes, I… I seem to have crossed a line. I didn’t think things would…’

‘Clearly,’ Sherlock interrupted curtly. He didn’t want to have to deal with Irene and _ sentiment _, however heartfelt her apology would be. Were he the same pretentious man with no concern for anyone but himself he’d been before meeting John, he would undoubtedly have left the scene without looking back.

‘As John said. It’s important for Harry, so it’s important for him to go through with this. I will attend dinner for their sake.’

‘Family pushes us to surpass ourselves and put our own needs aside. Thank you, Sherlock, John,’ Clara replied.

‘Should anything… happen, I will leave immediately.’

‘Of course. That’s very kind of you to tell us in advance. Can we… get back to the table, sit down and… order?’ she asked as Harry was holding herself close to John as the protective older sister that she was.

‘I’ll behave myself,’ Irene promised, visibly making an effort to drop her gaze to show how contrite she was.

Kate gave Irene a look that promised they would be having a very lengthy discussion later. Sighing she shook her head. ‘I am very, very sorry about this.’

Harry watched John intently noting his hand clenched tightly at his side and shaking ever so slightly. ‘Johnny?’ she asked softly placing a gentle hand on his arm. ‘Breathe. Things get awkward I'll call the whole thing off. Clara and I can get married somewhere else. Just the two of us and the two, three, of you.’

The moment they were back at the table Rosie settled herself in Sherlock's lap with a look that promised there would be hell to pay if anyone tried to make her move. ‘Papa ok? Bad lady?’ She looked up at him head cocked slightly. Irene seemed nice but she was also making Daddy and Papa upset.

Sherlock looked at Rosie and managed only to grunt in response. He discreetly cleared his throat.

‘Yes, darling. I’ll be okay,’ he tried again, aware that his answer was not very forthcoming and that he had not expressed an opinion on Irene. Confirming that she was ‘a bad lady’ might bring more questions than necessary – besides, he had no idea of the level of details he could share with her.

‘Your Papa had a fright, Rosie. He was not prepared to see… an old friend.’

‘Friend is a very strong word,’ he retorted, keeping his voice low so as not to upset Rosie.

‘I know, I know. I can hardly call her an enemy and explain why Harry and I are friends with her, can I?’ Clara asked over Sherlock’s intake of breath as he was about to interrupt her. ‘Difficult concepts to understand.’

‘Are you saying that my child is not intelligent enough to understand the situation?’

‘Of course not!’ she protested. ‘She’s your daughter which means that by the time she’s _ five years old _ she’ll be well-versed in more subjects than most adults,’ she replied with a wide, appeasing smile.

‘Of course she will.’

‘Besides, I think there’s a time and a place to discuss these kinds of subjects.’

‘I agree. Preferably with John who’s so much more astute than me when it comes to emotions. Lord knows I’m far from being an expert on the subject,’ he replied, appeased and reassured.

At the far end of the opposite side of the table, Irene was keeping quiet. She, too, had been confounded to meet Sherlock there; even if she knew both brides’ surnames, ‘Watson’ was still common enough not to alert her that Harry Watson’s brother was _ John Watson _, companion to Sherlock Holmes.

Kate squeezed Irene's hand gently, voice low. ‘We should do something nice for them. Send them some things for Rosie and her darling puppy. A sort of apology for springing this on them. They didn't come with a pushchair. That might be something nice to get them. Something the puppy can ride on too and with plenty of storage space.’

‘An excellent idea,’ Irene confirmed with a nod. ‘Aren’t you the one always telling me that forgiveness can’t be bought? Or love, for that matter?’ she questioned. ‘I didn’t expect… well, them,’ she said, taking a sip of water.

Kate nodded. ‘I know we didn't expect them, but given it was a bit of a surprise and we still owe them, especially Sherlock, a huge debt of gratitude for saving your life and keeping us together long enough to get married, I think a thank-you-slash-sorry-for-the-surprise gift would be appropriate.’

Rosie shot Irene a glare worthy of one of Sherlock's best before deliberately and obviously ignoring her. Taking a soft, pillowy breadstick she tore it in half holding it up to Sherlock. ‘Papa eat dis 'fore spushgeddi. Yum.’ Taking a bite of hers she watched him intently while Kate smiled at her trying to coax Sherlock into eating.   
‘She really is darling,’ she commented to Irene.

Sherlock smiled faintly at Rosie and took the breadstick she was offering him. ‘Thank you, darling,’ he replied putting it aside. ‘I’ll er, eat it later. Promise,’ he added when he saw the look she was giving him.

John sighed his earlier good mood shot to hell. He smiled at Rosie trying to tempt Sherlock into eating and her clear dislike of Irene was a bit funny. Glancing at Harry he nodded slightly to reassure her. The last thing this evening needed was Harry deciding that her little brother's honour needed defending.

‘So,’ Clara started, clearing her throat. ‘Now that everybody is here, why er, not share what all four of you like? I’m sure you have something in common that we could talk about. And order.’

‘Eating. Eating is what we have in common,’ Sherlock replied.

‘Apparently not,’ she retorted looking pointedly at the abandoned breadstick at his side. ‘Come now, I’m sure…’

‘Mama mia, Sherlock!’ boomed an approaching voice. ‘Back so soon, eh? You’ll want more of the lasagnas, won’t you?’ he bent to put an arm around his shoulders which had Sherlock visibly tensing but he didn’t say a word: he was used to Angelo’s constant shows of affection and, try as he might, there was no changing him anymore than making the Earth stop spinning. ‘Hello, there, little Rosie! Very possessive of her Papa, eh? I hope you let your Papa breathe a bit, little lady. I’m sure you’re helping with that a lot,’ he chuckled, addressing John with a large smile on his face.

Rosie squealed with delight as Angelo approached. ‘Angel-ho!! Hi!! I gets spushghedi? Pease? Papa spusghedi too,’ she nodded firmly giving Sherlock another look.

John smiled at the man. ‘Always a pleasure to see you Angelo. I think Rosie'd happily eat every meal here if we let her. And thank you, again, for making a little something for Sultan to eat. I'll have a beer, please, Angelo.’

‘Of course, it’s no problem! So, you’re dining with these fine ladies tonight. You’re John’s sister, aren’t you?’ he asked Harry who was holding Clara’s hand.

‘Yes, she is,’ Clara answered, clutching Harry’s hand tighter. ‘I’m her partner, Clara. Soon to-be-bride,’ she precised. ‘This is our chief bridesmaid, Kate, and her wife, Irene,’ she introduced.

‘Nice to meet you all,’ he replied, a large smile on his face. ‘What can I bring you? Anything for Sherlock and John’s friends and family.’ He was met with a loud silence while Sherlock was begging John to say something.

‘That’s very nice of you, Mr Angelo,’ Irene started, deciding to take charge and salvage the situation before it became problematic. ‘We’re actually meeting for the first time. I believe it is a little early for us to be friends,’ she chuckled. ‘We will, however, have your finest bottle of… Sorry, Harry, Clara. I forgot.’

‘Don’t deprive yourself because of…’

‘Ohoh, bun in the oven? Little Rosie’s going to have a cousin, then?’

‘Mh, it’s too soon to tell,’ Clara replied, so glad for the assumption that she didn’t contradict Angelo.

‘What your auntie means, darling, is that she doesn’t want to give you false hope,’ Sherlock explained. ‘White wine, Angelo,’ he said at the same time Irene asked for red.

‘Why not both?’ he chuckled to himself. ‘On the house, eh? And pineapple juice for Rosie?’

Harry smiled at Clara shaking her head. ‘Well so much for keeping that a secret. We don't know yet, but we're giving serious thought to starting our own family. I'll try the citrus twist soda.’

‘Of course, of course! I’ll let you have a look at the menu and be back in a jiffy with your drinks,’ he said in a jovial tone, handing menus to everyone before leaving with the same enthusiasm that seemed to be his natural mood.

‘I’m pleased that the two of you finally decided to re-evaluate your friendship and see it for what it had _ always _been,’ Irene addressed John, speaking more loudly, as an attempt to make amends for her words and behaviour.

‘You seem to have known them for quite some time, Irene,’ Clara chuckled.

John laid his hand on Sherlock's thigh fingertips stroking lightly along the inseam of his trousers. ‘We only had to go through hell and back a few times to get ourselves sorted out. All that matters is we're here now.’

‘Thank you,’ Sherlock replied in a crisp voice, making his and John’s ankle touch for more support.

‘Did you meet on a case, then? The selfless Sherlock Holmes and his brave, dedicated assistant?’ Clara asked cheerily.

‘My motives to investigate were not at all selfless. I owed somebody a favour.’

‘None other than the British government,’ Irene piped up fondly. ‘I don’t think it would be very wise to disclose anything else – isn’t this affair under official secrets acts?’

‘Quite. Besides, I am told it is bad form to flaunt one’s victory in the face of the losing party,’ Sherlock replied smugly.

‘And we both know who the losing party was,’ Irene retorted.

‘Yes. I believe the game was lost because of a locked phone and its rather damning password.’

‘I’m sensing tension,’ Clara commented.

‘Which I’m sure John will take care of later,’ she replied.

John snorted with a smug raised eyebrow at Irene. ‘Oh you can be bloody well sure I'll take _ very _ good care of him. I always do. And he takes good care of me, too. Not to mention Rosie who you can tell thinks he hung the moon.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t help but reflect on these memories but with fondness.’

‘You’d be the only one and I’m certain Kate would most certainly agree,’ Sherlock retorted.

Harry's eyes widened. ‘Oh my God... How did I miss it?! You. It's you. You're The Woman!! The one John wrote about on his blog.’ She crossed her arms glaring at Irene. ‘I can see why he'd be a bit put out by what you did to Sherlock. And what you put the two of them through. And then Sherlock risking his life to rescue you…’

‘Alright, girls, enough,’ Clara intervened her voice soft but firm.

Shaking her head at Irene, Harry looked over at John. ‘Amazed you've handled this as well as you have. Kudos to you Johnny.’

Kate shot Irene a look with a long-suffering sigh. ‘Can we please just let the whole incident go now, please? Let bygones be bygones, call a truce. It would be nice if we all got along since we'll be seeing a bit of each other now and then.’   
She smiled at Rosie who was still snuggled up to Sherlock and giving Irene a glare. ‘She's absolutely darling. And smart as a whip too I bet. And so lucky to have so many people who love her.’

‘Ah, Angelo. The wine. Thank you,’ Sherlock said, all but grabbing the bottle to pour himself a glass. ‘Amazing what having a child does to someone. Pushes you to look at everything with more perspective and evaluate one’s life more carefully,’ he nodded at Harry’s comment before kissing Rosie’s curly head.

‘She is the cutest thing, isn’t she?’ Clara said, jumping on the occasion to change topic.

‘Smart as a whip. You know how I love that expression. Well, not only the expression,’ Irene added her voice low enough for only Kate to hear. As a result, Kate’s cheeks turned pink and she suppressed a giggle. "Dear heart, there is a time and a place and this is neither of them. Especially around a curious little one who might ask uncomfortable questions."

‘She’s John’s child. Of course she is smart,’ Sherlock bristled, still clearly uncomfortable even though the wine was providing a very faint buzz that was starting to very slowly dampen his feelings of anxiety.

‘No one said she wasn’t, Sherlock. Or that _ John _ wasn’t,’ she winked.

Harry smiled. ‘Of course she's cute and smart. Two things the Watsons have in abundance in the family.’

‘You wouldn’t believe how many people adore her,’ Clara continued, addressing Kate. ‘Not only her parents’ friends – shh, dear. They _ are _ your friends, no matter how much you’d like to deny having any of these – but apparently _ everyone _ who meets her instantly adores her.’

‘I fail to see how that would be a surprise,’ Sherlock retorted smugly. ‘Once again, John is her father,’ he added warmly. ‘I couldn’t be prouder of you, my darling,’ he said placing another kiss to Rosie’s head. ‘Or love you more. Either of you,’ he added in a whisper, brushing the tips of his fingers against John’s.

Rosie smiled up at Sherlock carefully holding her beaker of juice and planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘Love Papa!"

‘So, Johnny. Given any more thought to finally going to the family reunion? I know Rosie'd have a _ ton _ of cousins just about her age to play with. Not to mention cats, dogs, ponies, horses, goats, chickens, those big shaggy Highland cattle, all of it,’ she grinned.

Rosie's eye lit up at the mention of ponies and horses. ‘Me an' Papa goes ridins! Daddy, show 'em!’

John laughed. ‘Thanks, Harry. Really. All right, princess, all right, I'll show your aunties what a good job you did riding the big horse with Papa.’

Kate leaned in. ‘Oh, it looks like you two had a marvellous time! What a good rider you are, Rosie! You'll be quite the equestrian as you grow up. You look so at ease up there with your Papa. Such a lucky girl to have a wonderful Daddy and Papa who love you so much.’

Rosie smiled at Sherlock head cocked curiously and looking the spitting image of him as he worked to put bits of information together. ‘Papa, shaggy cows? Needs haircuts?’

He graced her with a proud smile. ‘These ones, precisely,’ he confirmed. ‘As you so aptly described them, their coat is so long to protect them against the cold winters of Scotland that it falls well under their eyes – one wonders how they can see anything. I doubt you’d be at ease up there. I wouldn’t be at ease up there myself – not to mention the image of it,’ he added.

‘I’d go with you, Rosie,’ Clara offered. ‘If your Daddy decides on going to the family reunion,’ she added.

‘I see picshuh of cows? Pease, Papa,’ she smiled up at him having eagerly latched on to a new piece of information and eager to learn more. ‘Cows nice?’ she asked Clara, a bit wary given Sherlock's reaction.

Harry smiled. ‘Gentle as lambs, Rosie. Gentle as Sultan. They're big, but very friendly. They move slow and mostly just stand around eating grass. And they like to be petted. They're almost like pets. Their hair is used to make jumpers and blankets, and they're used to pull carts and things. Not terribly smart, but gentle. It's beautiful. I think you'll love it.’

‘Where is this reunion anyway? Highland cattle is not found in the Highlands only,’ Irene piped in.

‘Just like every year, it’s held in Crieff. Not too far from Loch Lomond, Sherlock. You could investigate Nessie,’ Clara replied in a teasing voice.

Sherlock blinked several times, his mouth hanging slightly open.

‘Kilt,’ he whispered after a moment in a shaky, barely audible voice. ‘I’m sure there’ll be other much more interesting features of interest than investigate a hoax,’ he said in a haughty voice after having recovered – hopefully no one had given his reaction much thought. ‘Which by the way is in Loch Ness, not Loch Lomond,’ he huffed.

Harry smirked as she watched him react. ‘You should have John show you the Watson tartan. Lovely shades of green and blue. It might take some convincing, but I'm sure he'd give in and wear a kilt.’

John groaned. ‘No. That's where I draw the line. I am not traipsing around in a glorified skirt made of wool that itches and leaves me with a rash.’

Kate smiled. ‘Now, John, I'm sure that the fabric would be very fine, soft wool that wouldn't itch at all. While much of the tartan fabric is mass produced now, I know there are still a number of small companies that make small batches of buttery soft fabric. I have some for my family in the loveliest shades of red and purple that's softer than silk or cashmere.’

‘Much softer,’ Irene added. ‘And you know how paramount this criteria is to me.’

John huffed clearly not convinced. ‘I don't even know half the people who'd be there.’

Harry smiled. ‘So? It's family. They're lovely people, Johnny. They don't bite. Some are a bit... eccentric... but they don't bite.’

‘Here I thought that _ I _ was considered… eccentric.’

‘No, Sherlock,’ Clara laughed. ‘No, they consider you as mad.’

‘Oh. In that case…’

‘Exactly. You’d get on swimmingly,’ she smiled broadly, reassuringly at John.

‘I’m not sure _ I _would,’ Sherlock countered.

‘A clever, dashing man like you? Of course you would!’

‘People! Superstitions!’

‘John’s family. Rosie being happy and having the time of her life with her cousins!’

‘John in a kilt,’ Irene declared in a steady voice which was met with silence.

‘… You do have a point, Irene,’ he conceded, his voice equally steady.

‘Good! Now all it takes is for John to agree to wear one,’ Clara giggled.

‘We’ve _ not _ agreed to go.’

‘Yet,’ Irene and Clara added in the same voice.

John groaned putting his head in his hands. It was beginning to look like a lost cause. He really didn't do the whole extended family thing. Never had. Never wanted to. But he supposed if Harry was going to make an effort, he should. And as much as he hated to admit it, it would be good for Rosie to know her roots and get to know her extended family. It might be bearable. For a day or two at the most.

‘We'll _ think _ about it. No promises. We'll just think about it...’

Kate smiled. ‘Oh, look! The Holmes tartan is strikingly similar to the Watson tartan. Same colours, very nearly the same pattern. They'd look beautiful merged together! I've got a connection that could easily do that. It's usually for weddings and other formal ceremonies, but…’ she shrugged.

John swallowed hard his grip on Sherlock's knee tightening. It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea of getting married again, especially to Sherlock, since that was the _only_ way he'd ever even consider getting married again, but they'd just settled in to sharing a bed and a room and a life as Rosie's parents. Wasn't it a bit soon to be making wedding plans?

‘Weddings, Kate? Should not Ms Watson and Ms Wyndham’s upcoming one be your primary concern rather than the ludicrous idea that you’ve just expressed regarding John and I?’ Sherlock replied, his words and tone forceful and defensive.

‘Methinks the fair man does protest too much,’ Irene inserted.

‘Don’t add any more fuel to the fire,’ Clara told her.

‘You _ have _been a couple since you met,’ she insisted.

‘There is no need to insist on anything,’ Sherlock protested, clenching his hands.

‘Kate was not suggesting you get married,’ Clara tried to dispel the building tension. ‘She merely said that the merging of the two patterns was _ usually _ done for weddings and _ other formal ceremonies _ but I’m sure there is a tradition that allows you to merge both your family patterns together without you needing to tie the knot,’ she elaborated.

Kate nodded with a slight wave of her hand. "Of course. Clans would unite patterns for any number of reasons, aside from families marrying. Treaties, truces, combining resources and lands, all fairly common reasons for patterns to merge. The ones for your families are strikingly similar they'll blend beautifully if you choose to merge them."

Well the evening was just going splendidly, wasn't it? John sighed deeply. If he hadn't sworn he'd lay off alcohol**, **he would definitely be drinking something much stronger than the beer in front of him that he'd barely touched. Finding Sherlock's hand under the table he squeezed it tightly in apology for getting them into this hell. At least Rosie seemed fairly oblivious to everything, much more interested in waving to everyone who looked her way and winning hearts.

Harry looked over at John raising a brow slightly. She still had no issue ending the dinner early if it was going to be too much for John. Or Sherlock for that matter. One cue from him and she'd have them out and bundled in a cab before anyone could protest.

‘Don’t, John. No need. As it’s been said we can handle this calmly as adults.’

‘And not as drama queens,’ Irene intoned. ‘_ All _of us,’ she precised before Sherlock got up on his high horse.

‘I think it might take a little more than saying “we can” and a little more of showing it, Irene,’ Clara cut in. She understood perfectly where the bad blood between them came from but she was also very much aware that they could put it all behind them if they indeed started acting like grown-ups instead of children.

Irene rolled her eyes discreetly, she was not one for angering brides to be _ and _her wife. She looked up to Sherlock and John.

‘It might not be worth much but I apologise to you both for everything I put your through then and now.’

Sherlock looked at her blankly, hardly understanding what had just happened or, more to the point _ why _. If truth be told it was the very last thing he’d have ever expected from Irene Adler.

‘Am I hallucinating?’ he asked John.

‘If you are then we're both having the same one...’ John shook his head trying to clear it. ‘Think she'd be good enough to say it again so one of us can record it for the future?’

Kate squeezed Irene's hand. ‘I'm certain she'd be happy to say it again if we could just hold off on recording it. I promise you she is sorry. _ Very _ sorry. We've had a number of long talks about this and I promise you she is sorry. And grateful for you saving her life, Sherlock, that's something we're both grateful for.’

Harry raised an eyebrow at John silently asking if this was all ok. She didn't want to hurt Clara or cause problems just before the wedding, but if it was something that would make her brother unhappy then she'd do it.

Rosie looked around at the adults with a frown. Something was going on and it wasn't good. Daddy and Papa weren't happy. Aunt Harry looked mad and Aunt Clara looked kind of worried. The other two ladies, well she didn't know what to think about them yet. Even though Papa had said they were ok she wasn't so sure given how unhappy everyone looked.

‘A plate of spaghetti for little miss Rosie here,’ Angelo announced loudly, with a hint of melody, depositing a plate in front of her. ‘And a larger one for both Sherlock and John to share! Anything else for you boys, mh? A candle, maybe?’ he chuckled to himself. ‘Now ladies, if I remember… a plate of pappardelle meatballs, one of seafood linguine and two beef cheek pappardelle a-coming and two sirloin steaks for the b…’

‘Thank you, Angelo, that won’t be necessary,’ Sherlock cut in. ‘No need for so much food for John and I, we’d rather leave room for dessert,’ he added with a smile placating the upcoming protest.

‘Everything alright?’ Angelo asked a look of concern on his face.

‘Yes, yes. Nothing to trouble yourself with. Unexpected news,’ he dismissed.

‘Okay then, if you need anyth…’

‘Yes, yes, thank you, Angelo,’ Sherlock interrupted him, taking a fork and a spoon to show Rosie how to properly eat spaghetti. ‘Actually, if you happened to have a serviette for Rosie… Make that two,’ he added. ‘One can never be too careful.’

‘Right you are, Sherlock! I’ll bring you all this in a jiffy!’

‘Thank you, Sherlock,’ Clara said, clearly relieved he’d decided to stay.

‘And pass on a moment where I can show off my little girl? I wouldn’t miss this for the world,’ he countered, holding her closer. 

Rosie watched in fascination as Sherlock expertly twirled the spaghetti on his fork using a spoon. "Good job Papa!" She smiled up at him. "Me do?" Tongue poking out the corner of her mouth she attempted it.

John smiled watching her carefully work at winding the pasta around the fork. Harry smiled taking a bite of her steak.

"Ok, this place is officially my favourite place to eat. Ever. We'll make special trips into town just to eat here. Any excuse." Kate watched Rosie with a smile. "She's so cute working so hard at that."

Sherlock looked at Rosie, a proud smile on his face.

‘Give her a few more tries and she’ll be able to do that as expertly as her Papa,’ Clara replied while Sherlock turned smug.

‘All the more reason to keep coming here, so she can practise and hone her skills,’ he added.

‘You can have spaghetti at home, can’t she work it out there? Although I understand the appeal of the place, it’s bound to become costly in time,’ Clara retorted, sceptical.

John chuckled with a shrug. "That is _ if _ Angelo ever lets us pay. Sherlock helped him out a bit a few years ago, helped him avoid being wrongfully put in prison. Angelo never lets Sherlock pay. We've tried and he gets offended. Even if he charged us, he wouldn't charge for Rosie. She's got him wrapped around her little finger. Like everyone. Charmer." He smiled watching Rosie carefully try to copy what Sherlock had done.

Harry smiled. "Look at her. Trying so hard. She's almost got the hang of it, too. And I doubt any commercial sauce could compete with something made from an old family recipe and slow cooked. And sometimes eating out as a family is just more fun."

‘Home doesn’t have the same charm as here,’ Sherlock shrugged. Besides, if need be…’ he took out a credit card in the name of Mycroft. ‘I pickpocket him when he’s annoying,’ he whispered.

‘Isn’t that a sweet example to give your daughter,’ Irene replied tongue-in-cheek. ‘As long as she doesn’t figure it out though…’ she smiled softly watching the look of intense concentration on Rosie’s face who appeared completely oblivious to everything and everyone around her.

John shot Sherlock a look, more amused than irritated. "You nicked one of his cards again? And if you pickpocketed him when he's annoying, you'd do it all the time. He's getting better. A bit."

‘Fine. When he’s being _ particularly _ annoying,’ Sherlock huffed.

‘I think that every sibling is irritating in the eye of their brothers or sisters,’ Clara chuckled softly. ‘In the end you’ll always… What?’ she asked when Sherlock threw her a look of absolute horror.

John smiled giving Sherlock's knee a squeeze. "Don't listen to him. Under all the snipping and arguing they actually get along fairly well. In the end, there's nothing they wouldn't do to help each other if they needed it. I can't tell you how many times Mycroft has asked, almost begged, Sherlock to handle something that he doesn't want to because it might require being out of the office and dealing with people."

‘You have never heard me beg to Mycroft, though, have you? He knows which one of us is the most capable of dealing with what he calls _ legwork _,’ Sherlock replied smugly.

‘With those legs, I’m sure you are… And I’m certain he’s heard you beg a lot,’ Irene whispered to herself, unable to keep silent. She shook her head, silently admonishing herself. She had promised to behave herself and her old habits were hard to kill, even for one evening.

John smiled at Harry who had drifted off the conversation to observe Rosie trying her hardest getting the spaghetti onto her fork. It was nice to see his sister happy and wonderful that she was stable. He wanted her in Rosie's life and knew Harry wanted to be in it. This time it would work. She'd stay sober this time. If for no other reason than Rosie and Clara.

Kate smiled chin propped in her hand as she watched Rosie carefully work to wind spaghetti on her fork. She really was a darling child. Even Irene seemed to be warming up to her and Irene was _ not _ fond of children.

‘It’s not a _ discussion _ we’ll have later,’ Irene whispered to Kate. ‘About being nice?’ she precised when she frowned in confusion. ‘You’ll need to… take action,’ she continued sitting closer. ‘Oh and before you ask, dear, I’m absolutely not thinking about having children,’ she continued. ‘This one is… something. Charming and clever. What two year old could do that?’ she indicated Rosie’s fine motor skills that seemed to be paying off.

John smirked. "No, love, you've never begged Mycroft for anything in the entire time I've known you. It works out. He hates leg work, you enjoy it. And usually he's too busy trying to run the world to bother much with us. Which suits me fine."

Kate stifled a giggle at Irene's murmured commentary. It was rather difficult to stay irritated with her for long. She laid her hand on Irene's thigh with a light squeeze. "Can we please not speculate about their sex life? Rather puts a damper on our own I think." It was a casual, subtle warning but one Kate was sure Irene would heed. "And yes we will be having a _ discussion _ later. I'm not suggesting we have children now but consider it as a possibility in the future."

She smiled at Rosie who was determined to twirl the spaghetti on her fork. "Of course she's charming and clever. Being raised by Sherlock and John I can't imagine she'd be anything but."

Harry smiled proudly watching Rosie. "John's told me Sherlock does a lot of fine motor playing and training with Rosie. What might seem like her just clipping things in Sherlock's hair or gathering bits of it and putting a scrunchie around it is actually working on fine motor skills. She gets rather irritated if you interfere and try to help her before she wants help. It's a Watson thing,’ she shrugged with a grin at John.

"Clara and I will make it a point to visit often. And the three - four," she corrected herself to include Sultan "are _ always _ more than welcome to come visit us for a weekend."

‘While that is much appreciated – no doubt even more so by Rosie who adores the both of you, it seems rather… difficult to realise. You do only have one guest room and no child’s bed to speak of. Unless that invitation was an unsubtle way of asking for one,’ Sherlock mused, mostly to himself, unaware that he’d voiced that particular assumption.

Clara paled a little, shocked that he’d insinuate such a thing. ‘You… I hope you know neither of us would… do that, Sherlock,’ she asked in a choked voice. ‘We’d gladly have you over, but… please don’t insult us.’

Sherlock looked at her, startled as if he hadn’t the faintest idea why Clara was shaken – and Harry looking so indignant. ‘What did I say?’

‘Why don’t you replay these last exchanges?’ Irene suggested. ‘You might find it enlightening.’

John smiled trying to smooth ruffled feathers. "Sherlock was just thinking things through out loud. As he does. Often. No offense meant and none should be taken. We know you and Harry are tight on space. We'd be happy to send you a fold out cot for Rosie to sleep on whenever we visit. We wouldn't dream of staying at a hotel or B and B unless there just wasn't room. Which with a toddler and a puppy, I can definitely understand," he chuckled.

"If nothing else we can fix Rosie up a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. Throw a blanket over some chairs and she'll have her very own indoor tent. Just like you and I used to do on rainy days, Harry.”

Kate sighed. _ Why did things have to get complicated? Well, more complicated than they already were, anyway. _   
"I happen to agree with John. I'm certain Sherlock didn't mean to upset or offend anyone." She smiled. "Irene knows I'm always thinking out loud and asks me a dozen times a day if I'm really talking to her or just thinking out loud again," she offered trying to help.

Harry grunted still glaring at Sherlock. She was always going to have a hard time letting go of what he'd done to John. She'd watched her brother slowly self-destruct from a distance, helpless to do anything to slow it down, much less prevent it. Yes, he'd helped Clara immensely and things were much better with John now but that didn't mean she was going to let everything go.

Clara inhaled slowly, holding onto Harry’s hand, squeezing it so she’d calm down as well. ‘I know, darling, I know. He didn’t mean to be insulting and he does have a point. We don’t have any children bed. I’m still disgruntled of course but… that’s how he is, isn’t it? Tell the facts as they are,’ she told Harry softly. ‘Just so you know, Sherlock,’ she added raising her voice a little so he’d hear her, ‘if we wanted to ask for something we wouldn’t be unsubtle about it and ask straight away. Not to you.’

Sherlock shook his head minutely: others were so… sensitive, he still had so much to learn, so many reflexes to keep in check – because if he were honest, he could not get rid of them no matter how hard he tried to eliminate them. The only thing he _ could _do was to control them. ‘I apologise. I didn’t mean to offend either of you. I am glad to know you wouldn’t be delicate in telling me something,’ he tried to thank Clara.

‘Lord knows _ that _ doesn’t work,’ Irene chuckled while Sherlock shot her an uncomprehending look. She shook her head, indicating that this example was not appropriate, possibly not welcome but asserting that she knew what he was referring to. Clara watched their exchange, understanding dawning on her.

‘And it is precisely the reason we would be blunt. But still polite, obviously.’

John smiled. "Blunt but polite. The main reason Sherlock and I get along so well. It's also a Watson family trait. A little short on the polite sometimes..."

Harry nodded with a chuckle returning Clara's squeeze to her hand. She'd make an effort not to be offended or get upset when Sherlock said or did something. "We'll look into getting her a folding cot we can tuck away in a closet whenever you're not visiting. The house is small, but we'll manage. Because it's family."   
At least Sherlock had attempted an apology and tried to correct things. It was a step.

Kate firmly nudged Irene’s leg in a warning to behave herself and keep her comments polite. Irene dropped her head in acknowledgement, knowing this was a subject they’ll address when in the privacy of their home.

‘Thank you,’ Sherlock declared. Was it expected that he offer to have one delivered to their place despite what Harry said? Would it not show a distrust in their capacity to choose a good enough cot for his daughter? Would they assume he was trying to prevent them from doing that? He knew they wouldn’t assume that if he did it was out of charity – or would they? His anxious musings were interrupted by Angelo and Billy bringing their dishes, proud bright smiles on their faces.

‘I hope you’ll enjoy,’ Angelo announced happily as he put a frankly large plate in front of Sherlock and another in front of John. Every one of them had a plate of the same size.

‘Angelo that’s… pardon me but that’s _ huge _!’ Clara exclaimed. ‘We’ll never get to finish those! And we won’t be able to have one of your delicious desserts!’

‘Don’t worry, you’ll take whatever you want with you,’ Angelo chuckled.

‘Angelo would not let you leave without having one of his desserts,’ Sherlock added, grateful for his mind going off the anxious tracks it was fast going on. ‘Neither would Rosie, would you darling?’

Rosie looked up at Sherlock with a smile. "We shares. Gotsa eat first," she reminded him.  
  
John smiled. "That's right, you and Papa can share after you both eat some of what's on your plate. Not all. Try for a third." He'd long ago learned the art of negotiation when it came to Sherlock and food. If he insisted on a third, Sherlock would counter with a fourth and a show of giving in would happen.

‘Of course we must eat the main course before dessert, darling,’ Sherlock chuckled. ‘A third,’ he repeated, pondering on the feasibility of the task. ‘I suppose we can _ try _ and we _ will _ but let’s not consider that our main goal. Eating through a fourth of this _ enormous amount _ of food will be challenging enough.’

John chuckled. "I'll be satisfied with a fourth. As long as you both try, that's all I could ask. We'll take the rest of it home and eat on it for the next several days."

"We know whatever cot you get for Rosie will be perfect. Don't stress over it," John added addressing Harry and Clara.

Harry nodded. "We'll pick a good one. One that's safe and will adapt as she grows. And a few things for Sultan as well."

‘I won’t let you loose on your own in an animal shop,’ Clara chuckled. ‘You’ll end up bringing more than just “a few things”,’ she teased.

Harry smiled. "I can't help it. He's a cute little thing. He and Rosie are quite a pair. My brother's clever. He knows how much Sherlock loves dogs. So what better excuse to get a puppy than to get it for Rosie. John and I always wanted a dog. Just never worked out."

‘But of course we’ll get a good one for Rosie. Who knows, we might even be able to buy one of an even superior quality, what with the reduced prices at the end of the year,’ Clara continued.

John smiled at Harry and Clara. "Please, don't put yourselves out. Really, she'd be perfectly happy in a blanket tent with a pile of pillows and Sultan. As long as she's with her aunties and Sultan, she'll be perfectly happy."

Kate smiled warmly at Angelo. "This is fantastic! I know we'll be stopping in here whenever we're in London. The best Italian food I've had outside Italy."

‘I agree, this smells absolutely delicious and the taste…! Absolutely reminiscent of Italy. We are definitely coming back,’ Irene concurred eliciting a pleased chuckle from Angelo.

‘Why thank you ladies! I’ll leave you to enjoy then,’ he smiled.

Kate smiled. "You'll be seeing us quite often. I can promise that. I'm so glad we got the chance to come here. I'll be raving about the food, and the service, to everyone we know."

Leaning over John gently spoke to Rosie. "Remember how we talked about not giving Sultan too much of our food? Because he might get a tummy ache and get sick? Angelo is going to bring him a very nice dinner. So no sneaking him bites of your dinner, ok? You don't want him to be sick, do you?"

Rosie took this in listening carefully. Nodding the golden curls of her pigtails bobbed. "No feedins Sultan. Don' want him sick. Right Papa," she looked up at Sherlock not wanting anything to happen to Sultan.

Sherlock looked at her with a kind smile and let go of his cutlery to place his hand on John’s knee, appreciative of his comment about feeding Sultan. Having another to help with that amount of food would be helpful but certainly not at the price of risking their dog’s health. ‘Don’t worry Rosie, nothing bad will come to Sultan as I’m sure you won’t give him your food; I know I most definitely will not. He’s the safest he could be, darling,’ he insisted.

Rosie nodded leaning into Sherlock. It was much better sitting with Daddy or Papa than sitting by herself. Besides if she sat with Papa he ate more.

‘Of course I’ll bring Sultan his own plate, with proper food,’ Angelo chimed in reassuringly before he turned around back to the kitchen.

‘I admit I was not expecting such great service or food when you gave us the address to meet you,’ Irene said after a moment. ‘Of course I didn’t think you’d choose a poor venue,’ she added conscious not to upset either Clara or Harry. ‘Now that I know who suggested this place, I can clearly see why,’ she continued.   
‘So, the wedding,’ she addressed Harry, ‘do you mind telling us… what you need? I’m not sure Kate and I could help a lot since we chose not to have a wedding ceremony or reception, but we’ll do the best we can.’

Kate smiled, pleased that Irene was making a true effort at being polite and pleasant. "Just let us know what needs to be done and we'll try to handle it."

Harry smiled at Clara. "I think we have almost everything under control. Just a bit of trouble finding a florist who will do what we want, which is just a few simple arrangements, that won't charge us an arm and a leg."

Sherlock coked his head and threw a pointed glance at John.

‘Are you certain you could help in this particular case?’ he asked Irene in a slightly mocking tone resulting in a suspicious look and a clearing of the throat from Clara.

‘She is trying and so should you,’ she reproached him. ‘You might not be best man but you’re John’s other half. Help _ him _to do his job properly. As Harry said, we do only need a decent and affordable florist.’

‘You forgot open-minded, available and last but not least, who can do his job just as well if not better under pressure with countless changes. You may have already planned most of it but one really must think of any eventuality with its unforeseen consequences,’ he commented while John nudged him in the ribs. ‘My point is I’m sure we could very well find the one you need,’ he added in a tone implying he’d done it before. _ Fairly certain that one would not be open-minded, however. _

John rolled his eyes slightly. "We're all trying and we all need to keep trying. There's a wedding to finish planning. We're all part of it and need to do what's best for Harry and Clara," he firmly reminded everyone. "Can we all please try not to bicker or keep track of points?"

Kate nodded. "I believe we might know someone and can negotiate a very reasonable price since it's for a friend."

Sherlock crisply nodded his assent to John’s reminder and took his hand, pressing softly. ‘John, I am 100% confident that I can find them a talented florist who will refuse they pay anything. In fact I have but to contact her,’ he said softly leaning towards John. ‘Would that be considered counting points or offering the best help?’

John tried his best not to smile. "We're not keeping points, remember, love. But that would be very nice of you. I'm sure Harry and Clara will insist on paying whoever they decide on." He nuzzled Sherlock's cheek lightly keeping his voice low. "The nicer you play with Irene now, the nicer I'll play with you when we get home and get Rosie off to sleep."

‘Whatever the two of you are conspiring about, I’m sure it can wait until _ after _ dinner. Didn’t either of your mothers teach you it was bad manners to whisper when in company?’ Clara chided them both. ‘Especially you, Mister I’m-nonplussed-about-going-to-Buckingham-Palace-so-I’ll-wear-a-bedsheet Holmes!’ Sherlock smirked. ‘Don’t think we haven’t heard that one. Always dressed to the nines and when it is absolutely obligatory…’

‘No one complained,’ he shrugged. ‘_ And _ my attire…’ Irene coughed ‘or lack thereof embarrassed my brother. All the more reason not to…’ he cut himself off, suddenly realising how surreal this conversation could sound like to a two-year-old if she happened to listen. Fortunately, she appeared to be more focussed on eating than listening to the boring discussion the adults around her were having. ‘In answer to your question, which I’m sure was more rhetorical than not, Mother hardly taught either Mycroft or me this; there being a seven years gap between the both of us, the point was moot,’ he replied.

‘I’m sure it was. To get back to the topic at hand, however…’

‘Oh, yes. Flowers. I’m sure the both of you will be pleased to know you won’t need to get in touch with someone who _ might _ fit the criteria,’ he commented. ‘You see, I have helped a young woman out of a delicate situation. She was engaged to be married or married, I don’t recall the particulars, to a man who disappeared; he _ disappeared _, he didn’t die; thus making it possible for her to place a request for divorce as she was extremely unhappy with this man. Indeed, how could she be happy at all when she was in love with her female best friend? I arranged for her request to be treated swiftly and she was able to marry the woman she loved. She told me that if I ever needed help, I should be sure to come to her.’

‘That’s a lovely story, Sherlock, but what does that have to do with anything?’ Irene retorted.

Sherlock sat back and looked at her with a smug look on his face. ‘Oh, didn’t I say? She’s a florist. A _ renowned _florist,’ he added a smirk on his face.

John hid a smirk. _ Well that was probably as polite as Sherlock was going to get given the situation _ . Tucking a napkin in the collar of Rosie's shirt he smoothed her hair.   
"Such a big girl." Sitting up he covertly slid his hand along Sherlock's thigh slowly. "I remember that one. Should have put it on the blog. Plenty of twists and turns to that case."

Kate laughed softly. "Well it seems we may have lost out on getting the flowers. Maybe Irene and I can help with other things."

"Well, Clara's still trying to collect things to decorate with and for the whole something borrowed, something blue. A shopping trip may be in order." Harry smiled.

‘Dressed in a bedsheet,’ Sherlock replied, turning towards him, one eyebrow raised suggestively. ‘Of _ course _ you remember this case, John,’ he added placing his hand on top of John’s and pressing it slightly. ‘I hardly dress inappropriately nowadays, should you need a reminder…’ he trailed off. ‘Allow me to correct you, doctor,’ he continued in a normal volume, ‘but you _ did _put the case – well, bits and pieces would be more accurate – on your blog. Official Secrets Acts?’

John chuckled. "Well I had to change quite a few details to get that on the blog. Didn't want too much information to get out. But there was no way I was going to leave out Sherlock in a sheet. Unfortunately I did have to leave out his snide comment about Mycroft. Even if it did make me laugh."

Irene harboured a sulky expression ‘I know we’re not keeping score but I really am disappointed not to be in charge of the flowers. That _ Kate _ is not in charge of the flowers, I mean. I was looking forward to it.’

‘I’m sure it’s for the best, Irene,’ Clara chuckled. ‘I’d be delighted to have your help to find blue things for the wedding,’ she beamed. ‘Besides, can you imagine John and Sherlock not being at a loss with that bit?’

‘You do have a point,’ Irene replied a soft smile on her lips. ‘I imagine you already have an idea of what old thing you could use?’

Kate smiled. "We should go to one of the markets. There's bound to be something perfect there. Clara and I would spend hours and hours going to the markets on the weekends to find things to dress up the dorm."

Harry smiled. "I'm using a bit of lace from one of Nan's dresses to wrap around the flowers. Nothing fancy, but it was something I loved."

Irene nodded. ‘That’s a… nice idea, darling. We must keep in mind that the bride – wait a minute, don’t the both of you want to go through with this tradition?’ she interjected. ‘How should we go about it? Two of each characteristic or…’

‘We obviously both want to follow the tradition,’ Clara replied. ‘Two of each, twice the good fortune,’ she pondered looking lovingly at Harry. ‘I think _ that’s _an excellent idea.’

Sherlock looked at them all and sighed, pleased not to having to deal with that aspect. Traditions were absolutely not his forte and he would be out of his depth to suggest anything that might appeal to either Harry or Clara whereas Kate had known Clara since their days at university. If she had, it could be assumed that Irene knew everything she needed to know about her. Despite Harry being his sister, John was not close to her, not enough to significantly help on this specific subject. It was a good turn of fortune that he had this florist in his contacts.

Harry smiled. "Yes dear. We'll both do it. Double the good luck. Can't pass up a chance like that. And if you want to wander through the markets then that's exactly what we'll do." She leaned over to kiss Clara's cheek. It really was impossible for her to deny Clara much of anything. John smiled, happy to see Harry so content and focused.

"Nice job holding back comments. I appreciate it. Very much," he promised softly hand moving along Sherlock's thigh.

"Well, of course you must both do it!" Kate smiled. "As you said, can't pass up good luck like that!"

Clara gave Kate a somewhat regretful look. ‘I’m just sorry I didn’t know you were getting married when you did, I would have sent my best wishes on a blue card. But I can see you are doing very well,’ she added smiling again at the two women. ‘Harry… I’ve just had a thought…’

‘And here start the unforeseen changes,’ Sherlock commented softly, an idle smile on his lips.

‘Can we have the bridesmaid in blue? I don’t know what shade of blue but… it would be fitting, wouldn’t it? It could be both our something blue, what do you think?’

John nudged Sherlock gently in the ribs with a smile. "Hush you. Let them change their mind a hundred times if it makes them happy."

He nodded to Kate and Irene. "Of course we would have sent a card too. And maybe a little gift."

Sherlock huffed at that. ‘_ I _wouldn’t have sent anything,’ he mumbled.

John nudged Sherlock in the ribs again. "I'm about to put in a three-strikes-and-you're-out rule for you tonight," he tried not to smile. "She's trying and so should you."

Kate smiled. "That's so nice of you, all of you, but that's why we did something very simple. We know everyone's busy and we didn't want anyone to feel like they had to send a gift."

Harry smiled. "Sensible. We thought about that but then we decided we wanted to celebrate with everyone."

‘I’m sure you mean that we’ve had pressure from the Watsons’ branch to celebrate,’ Clara teased. ‘Although to be fair we aren’t exactly unhappy about it,’ she added.

Harry laughed. "Well with the big family reunion coming up, as if they really needed another reason to celebrate anything? But if there's any excuse to celebrate, they'll find it."

"Oh that sounds absolutely wonderful, Harry!" Kate smiled warmly. "I'm sure you two will have a wonderful time with everyone."

‘Oh I think you’re right, they’ll find any reason to celebrate,’ she laughed. ‘Gives us an excuse to dress up,’ she added after another forkful of her plate. ‘And you all know how much Harry loves it. So do I, mind. A little girl’s dream, to be walking dressed as a princess with plenty of other princesses and princes,’ she chuckled.

‘Of course I’m sure that for some of us it’s been that way for a long time,’ Irene replied looking pointedly at Sherlock. ‘Remember not to throw shade to any of the brides, darling, it’ll be _ their _big day. Yours will come soon enough,’ she teased and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

‘I will not address either of these comments,’ he replied tersely.

‘Suit yourself,’ she retorted.

‘We know you already are your Daddy and Papa’s princess but are you excited to meet other princes and princesses?’ Clara asked.

Harry shrugged. "Speak for yourself, Claire Bear. Ask Johnny, I never was much for being a princess. Unless you count Princess Leia. She was a pretty bad ass princess." Glancing at Rosie and then John and Sherlock she smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I am. I promise to try and work on that around her."

John chuckled. "Harry, it's ok. Try. That's all I ask. We're teaching her that some words are grown-up-words and some are everybody-words. She hasn't learned too many yet. And yes, you always did prefer to be a tough princess slaying the dragon right alongside the knight instead of sitting around in the 'tower' with nothing to do but wait to be rescued. And I know Sherlock will be very well-behaved. He'll have no reason to say anything to either Harry or Clara who I know will look beautiful."

Kate smiled watching Rosie carefully work the pasta on to the fork with only minor assistance from Sherlock. "I'm certain she'll love being the flower girl and getting to wear her own princess dress."

Rosie's eyes brightened considerably. "Pwincess dress?!" She looked up at Sherlock. "Papa, I be pwincess for weddins?"

Sherlock huffed loudly. _ Well-behaved. As if I were a child…! I resent the implication. _ _   
_‘Yes. A princess dress. Such a stroke of luck that she happens to have one, courtesy of Father Christmas this year. Who, by the way, would put you on the naughty list were you to use bad language young lady,’ he reminded her before letting the stern mask of the parent slip, his own face brightened at her enthusiasm at the prospect of wearing such a dress. ‘Of course my darling. I daresay this might just be an occasion to wear not only your magnificent dress but also that thing that princesses wear on their heads. Oh, what is that called?’ he wondered aloud, wanting to see whether Rosie could find the word again.

Irene and Kate’s eyebrows had risen significantly, surprise written all over their faces as they heard Sherlock mention the piece of jewellery she’d already had been given and, knowing Sherlock’s fine, luxurious tastes, they knew it wouldn’t be something bought out at a joke shop as so many little girls had.

Rosie's smile brightened more as she clapped her hands excitedly. "My tee-are-uh!! I wears it Papa? Daddy?"

John smiled. "Well if your aunties say you can wear your tiara with your flower girl dress, and you are very careful with it, then I suppose you can."

Eyes bright and matching Sherlock's intensity when he was on the trail of an important clue Rosie looked at Clara and Harry. "Pease..."

Harry smiled looking at Clara. If her, _ their _ , niece wanted to wear a floofy princess dress and a tiara then who were they to say no?!   
"I think we could maybe work something out. You'll look lovely. Do you think you could train Sultan to carry the pillow with the rings on it? You two could walk together. Flower girl and ring bearer are two _ very _ important jobs." She smiled. 

Curls bobbing Rosie nodded eagerly "Him smart! I help! We do good job!"

Clara gave a patient, indulgent look to Rosie, a gentle smile on her lips. ‘Thank you Rosie, that’s very generous of you to want to help so much. I’m sure Sultan will help tremendously too and be very patient when you teach him so that the two of you will do a fantastic job,’ she smiled warmly.

John chuckled shaking his head. "I should have seen that coming. I really should have." Harry smirked. "You're getting slow, Johnny. I'm amazed you didn't think that we'd involve Sultan somehow since he's so important to Rosie."

Sherlock smiled proudly at his daughter ‘That’s precisely the right word, darling. What should you remember to say Aunt Harry and Aunt Clara for agreeing you wear your _ tiara _?’ he asked, aware that she’d forgotten out of enthusiasm for the mission she’d just been assigned coupled with the authorisation to wear her princess dress as well as the tiara she’d got for Christmas.

Rosie took a minute to think. "Manners matter." She nodded before smiling brightly at Harry and Clara. "Fank you! We do good jobs! Pwomise!"

John nodded. "Of course you will. Both of you. That was very nice of you to thank your aunties for letting you wear a princess dress and a tiara. Not to mention having Sultan involved too. Lucky girl," he gently tweaked a pigtail making Rosie giggle.

‘That is very thoughtful to involve her this much,’ Sherlock added addressing Harry. ‘She’ll be and feel _ useful _ and _ wanted _ as opposed to… Thank you.’

Harry smiled at Sherlock. Well, it seemed he could learn some manners after all. At least when it was really important. "You're welcome. Family's important. We didn't have anyone in mind to be ring bearer and there are some incredibly cute videos of dogs doing the job. All the better to have our adorable niece and her adorable puppy doing such important things for us."

Kate looked to Irene, impressed by Rosie's vocabulary and memory for such things. She was quite advanced for such a young child. "I can see living with Sherlock has been an exceptionally good influence on her."

Irene nodded her agreement with Kate, her expression ever so slightly more serious than before. ‘Is it only due to her environment or are there other factors to her being evidently a prodigy – if not, at the very least a highly intelligent young person? I wonder,’ she murmured to herself.

Kate looked at her blinking a few times. "You mean... You think that they're... Not Mary? Oh... Oh! I had no idea research was that advanced... Do you know something I don't?!"

‘We’ll discuss it later,’ Irene simply answered, her already lowered voice drowned in Angelo’s cheery booming one.

‘Ah compagnia! You look all a bit _ sazio _ , full, but you still have room for dessert, eh? Little Rosie,’ he continued in the same joyful tone, ‘ _ sei felice come una Pasqua _, what makes you so happy?’

Sherlock chuckled upon seeing everyone at the table crunch their noses to understand precisely what he was saying. ‘To be exposed to a native speaker is a more enjoyable way for her to learn a foreign language than to learn with her Papa,’ he explained ‘More slowly, Angelo, if you don’t mind. She’s distracted – and digesting.’

Rosie smiled. "Si. Dolce pease Angel-oh! I go kitchen? Pease?" She gave him her best pleading look. Angelo's kitchen was fascinating and everyone was always eager to give her little treats.

‘That’s an excellent idea, Sherlock,’ Clara commented. ‘There’s no better way than to start learning early to become an accomplished polyglot,’ she praised ‘which I’m sure she’ll become upon entering school.’ Sherlock made a face. ‘Sore subject?’

‘Hm. No matter.’

‘Indeed. She clearly is… advanced. John, I assume you approve of… being lost in conversation in years to come?’

John smiled. "And that's why I'll put a language app on my phone so it can translate whatever it is you two are saying."

Harry smiled. "A wedding present then, for my best man. There are ear buds that translate a language. Not too expensive, I promise so don't you start worrying about that."

Kate smiled. "Fascinating... I can't wait to hear your thoughts. Now that I know, I can begin to see it. She more strongly resembles John but I can see it..."

‘Rosie is happy as a lark because she’ll get to wear a fantastic dress and an equally amazing tiara at her aunts’ wedding,’ Sherlock explained to him, chuckling at the not so subtle manipulation she was exercising – and of which everyone was aware.

‘_ Si, certo, signorina _. Tiramisù for everybody, eh? Unless you want another dessert?’

‘_ Si, Angelo, grazie. Caffè in quantità, per piacere. _John?’

‘Pannacotta for me, please,’ Clara piped in.

‘I think I’ve seen on the menu a Panettone with mascarpone and Amaretto,’ Irene added, smiling softly. The diversity on the menu was interesting as she had not seen that type of dessert served with these particular ingredients, specific to Italy. It was a restaurant worthy of returning to when they were in town.

John chuckled gently bopping Rosie's nose. "Not too much sweet stuff, ok. You can help Angelo arrange the tray. Then you can ask very politely if you may try a little of each dessert." Helping Rosie down who immediately tucked her hand in Angelo's much larger one she nodded. "The canoli for me, please Angelo."

Harry smiled. "Tiramisu, please. Clara knows it's the one vice and addiction besides coffee I haven't given up and don't really intend to," she teased giving Clara's hand a squeeze.

Kate smiled. "I have to try the Zuppa Inglese. I have a weakness for good sponge cake and cream in any form."

‘Certo, signore e signori,’ he replied with a smile. ‘I’ll make sure the little one doesn’t take too much,’ he winked walking back to the kitchen with Rosie.

Sherlock looked tenderly at Rosie before addressing John, his tone of voice coloured with the expression of sentiment. ‘She is a charmer, just as her Daddy is. With a mind of her own,’ he added, leaning into John to kiss him openly. ‘I’m so happy you came back,’ he breathed, his eyes lingering over John’s lips for a second before locking with John’s.

Clara blushed, as did Kate. Harry seemed unfazed and Irene wore a large smirk on her lips.

‘Do you two need a room or something?’ she asked as Clara coughed loudly to make her unease known. It was not the type of kiss one expected to happen when out; unless one were a rebellious teenager with no boundaries whatsoever and not a care for other people’s views.

Blinking in surprise at Sherlock's somewhat unusual very open display of affection John smiled gently running his fingers through Sherlock's curls and holding him in place. Pulling back he laughed breathlessly. "She _ is _ a wonder. She's _ our _ wonder. And you're not short on the charm yourself you know. I'm so happy I, we, came back too. And that you came back." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "Sorry... We just..." he shrugged. It was the closest anyone would get to an apology since he really wasn't sorry.

Harry chuckled. "Good on you, Johnny. It's about time you were happy. So long as you stay happy, everything's fine. And Irene, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but bugger off."

Kate laughed softly. "No offense taken, Harry. We're as happy for them as anyone. Irene's been trying for some time to get them to sort this all out. We're happy for them."

‘Well, I’m not sorry. Why should I?’ he retorted, his arms laced around John. ‘As for needing a room…’ he started before being cut short by his phone. Ringing. He took it out of his inside pocket, looked at the caller ID and rolled his eyes. He picked up, answering rather curtly without leaving time to the caller to say anything.

‘No, Molly, the experiment can wait. No, I don’t need to take care of it right now. Yes, good.’

Clara crossed her arms and frowned, somehow much more shocked by this behaviour than by his impulse to kiss John mere moments before. ‘Molly. That’s how you speak to your friends, Sherlock?’

‘I’m sure there’s another kind of experiment you’d love to be taking care of,’ Irene snickered before sobering upon seeing the look Harry was throwing her. ‘To be fair, your turn of phrase would have been more pertinent to them than I.’

John chuckled. "That was just Molly making sure everything was ok. She'll understand. She's known Sherlock longer than I have. If she really had a problem with his tone she would have let him have it. She has before. And Rosie adores her."

‘Don’t over exaggerate, dear,’ Sherlock said taking his hand. ‘She’s known me longer than you, yes. But that was _ 24 hours before you and I met _, John,’ he smiled. ‘I feel that information needed to be corrected,’ he precised. ‘To be quite fair, Rosie adores all of our friends and most people she meets. Fear not, however, she’ll become more sensible as time passes.’

John laughed shaking his head. "Still, she's known me longer than you. Of course Rosie loves all our friends. She knows they're good people who love her. Makes perfect sense."

Kate nudged Irene's leg firmly with her shoe in an almost but not quite kick. "Irene! Really?! They're happy. You've been trying to achieve this for years."

‘Yes, but I was saying they should go and… well, do that. That’s all there is to it.’

Harry shrugged. "I stand by it. And I'm sure you've had your fair share of things being stuffed too. That may be, and I may happen to agree with you but there's a line and you were very close to crossing it."

Irene looked at Harry, chastised by Kate’s reaction. ‘You have no idea.’

Harry shrugged. "You really should know by now, Watsons are very prone to holding grudges."

John barely managed not to snicker. "Harry, it's fine. Let's not bring up things like that around Rosie. Even if she's not currently here. Truce, everyone."

‘Not to mention _ dessert _,’ Clara added.

Irene looked at Kate, mischief in her eyes. ‘Not a word,’ she promised while Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Kate smiled, cheeks a bit pink. "As you said, not a word. Especially not now that Rosie's back. That is definitely something we can discuss at home."

‘Thank you, Angelo! These all look delicious,’ Clara praised.

‘Rosie can confirm for you that they all _ are _,’ Sherlock retorted smugly.

John smiled at Rosie happily following Angelo back to the table and waving at several other people who were there enjoying dinner. "As I told Sherlock, she'll soon find out the world's not such a nice place. I'd just as soon she enjoy the feeling of everything being wonderful as long as possible."

Rosie climbed up in John's lap planting a slightly sticky kiss on his cheek. "Dey all good! I help make!"

Laughing he hugged her. "I'm sure you did. And I know Angelo appreciated the help."

‘Very much, very much!’ he confirmed laughing good-heartedly. ‘She was very helpful, your little one, your little _ principessa _,’ he winked at her. ‘And she did ask nicely to taste a bit of everything,’ he added, anticipating John’s question.

Sherlock mussed her hair all the while praising her good manners. ‘You are a very good little girl, remembering your manners so well,’ he bent over to place a kiss on top of her hair. ‘Papa is proud of you, as I’m sure Daddy is.’

‘And your aunts,’ Clara added with a large smile. ‘John, have you had a chance to take a picture of Princess Rosie so we might know what colours to demand everyone wears?’

John laughed. "Oh we only have a few dozen pictures of her. She loves every colour. Her favourite colour changes regularly though."

Harry nodded with a smile. "Well why pick one and stick with it when there are so many pretty colours to choose from."

‘Setting the tone, so young!’ Irene exclaimed ‘You must be very proud indeed!’

Kate smiled. "She's absolutely darling. I'm sure she'll be very pretty in whatever colour she picks."

John hugged her. "Good job sweetheart. I'm sure you did a lot to help Angelo make dessert for everyone. You'll have a wonderful story to tell Nana Hudson tomorrow." Beaming she snuggled into him. "No 'serts for Sultan. Might make 'im sick. I brought carrot. Crunchy." She nodded. "I give? Papa?" Papa was the expert on dogs so it was best to ask him.

‘Yes, of course! Peeled and stewed, I assume? That’s absolutely excellent darling. Not to mention that he’ll most probably like it,’ Sherlock answered with a smile. ‘How did you get the idea?’ he enquired, doubtful she’d thought of it herself. _ Then again, she fed carrots to the horses at Bridget’s. Could have assumed that it was good for most animals and wanted to check it was for Sultan. _

She nodded. "Granmary said cawwots good for doggy. Crunchy good for teeths and make eyes good at seeins."

John chuckled. "I'm sure Sultan will love the carrots. Especially since you were so thoughtful to bring them to him. You can sit with him while he eats them." Setting her down he watched her hug Sultan and tell him how good carrots were.

‘I was wondering what colour the dress she’d had at Christmas was, if it was… princesse-y enough to wear – and to be sure her tiara matched it,’ Clara chuckled. ‘Although that’s very good information to keep in mind for future reference.’

"I know Sherlock only has about a hundred pictures of her in the dress on his phone." He smiled kissing Sherlock's cheek.

‘Maybe not a hundred,’ he countered. ‘Twenty-five at most,’ he corrected, taking his phone out to show the pictures in question to Clara and Harry.

"Only 25." John smiled. "Sorry, I overestimated. With everyone else's pictures I'm sure there's over a hundred. I'm sure that her grandparents will be getting her a riding helmet and boots soon. Rosie's a bit in love with the horses that live next door."

Harry smiled. "We haven't chosen colours yet so it's no trouble to pick ones that will go with Rosie's dress. And a coordinating pillow for Sultan to carry.” This last statement elicited a vigorous nod from everyone involved.

Harry smiled. "And maybe a matching bow tie for his collar."

‘You absolutely _ must _ have a colour-coordinated pillow for the rings,’ Irene approved. ‘It would be an incredible faux pas in style if it weren’t; besides, Rosie and her Sultan should show the same colours.’

Kate nodded. "Of course. They'll both look wonderful and be the stars of the whole thing."

Sherlock frowned. ‘Don’t let your bias overrule your brain – it has been so for so long that it’s become obligatory that no one surpass the bride on her wedding day. Even I will not let Rosie infringe upon tradition.’

‘Well if that was a test darling, I’m sure Sherlock passed with flying colours,’ Irene commented.

‘I dare say he did,’ Clara intoned. ‘Even though of course they’ll be the centre of the attention, apart from us,’ she giggled.

Harry smiled. "Sherlock, we really wouldn't mind them being the centre of most of the attention. I promise Clara and I won't go Bridezilla because of it. Rosie's an important part of the family and our lives. It's the perfect time for our friends to meet her and see why we talk about her all the time."

John laughed. "We'll try and keep her from having a tantrum if she gets too tired. Try being the important word there."

Sherlock observed Harry and Clara, trying to see whether there was the merest trace of deception. Finding none, he nodded. ‘If you’re sure, then.’

‘Of course, Sherlock. Of course we’re sure, silly,’ Clara added forcefully.

Harry laughed. "If she steals the show then more power to her. The whole point of this is to have _ fun _, Sherlock. And if her having fun steals the show, then that's what happens."

‘And this, my dear,’ Irene told Kate, ‘shows us how dedicated Sherlock is to help prepare a wedding. He’s prepared not to let his own daughter shine too much for fear of upsetting the brides. The obvious upside to this silly tradition and to the stupidity that are gender roles assigned by society is that on their own wedding, little Rosie will be actively encouraged to be the prettiest lady.’

Kate smiled watching Rosie with Sultan. "They're adorable together. A dog that size would be an excellent travelling companion."

Sherlock nodded, enjoying another forkful of tiramisu – with much more gusto than he did the main dish, which was saying something. ‘Rosie refuses to go anywhere without him. I rather think it could cause problems in any other circumstances but I happen to think it’ll come with many more benefits than simply pleasing her,’ he replied.

John smiled nibbling on one of the cannoli and letting Sherlock process through things. All in all dinner had gone better than he'd anticipated. He really would have to reward Sherlock later. Irene wasn't his favourite person either but she'd behaved well too. Maybe they could get through the wedding without too many sarcastic remarks and arguments.

Irene was surprised at herself as she’d never expected to be able to hold herself in check at all when she’d seen John Watson and Sherlock Holmes arrive. There had been a few… missteps and an aborted crisis but Kate helped keep her right – and she assumed that John had done the same with Sherlock but most of all it was their child, Rosie, who did for both of them. Love and family seemed to make them stronger and, even though she’d never say it out loud to either of them, she was happy that they’d _ at last _ admitted to their true feelings.

She didn’t know the particulars of the science behind Rosie’s life, but she knew that it had been worked on extensively due to the sheer pressure of gay parents wanting to have their own child as much as humans’ natural curiosity. _ If playing God can make people happy… _ The question was, however, _ who _ did in that particular case.

John nodded. "He's very protective of her. He may not ever be a very big dog, but the bite from any dog is enough to make most criminals think twice. A lot of criminals would rather get shot than have a dog bite them. I know Sherlock will work with her to train him to have very good manners whenever they're out in public and in a shop. He's off to a good start."

‘I most certainly will,’ Sherlock concurred.

Kate smiled keeping her voice low. "You know if you keep on being very nice not only will you get another Christmas present tonight," she purred, "but John and Sherlock just _ might _ let you give Rosie some lessons on how to handle herself against unwanted attention and get what she wants when she's older. I can tell you care."

She smiled at Rosie. "Hello Rosie. Would you come talk to me and Irene for a moment?" She made space in her chair for Rosie. Regarding them intently with Sherlock's piercing gaze she nodded slowly. Ever watchful and protective of Rosie, Sherlock followed her movements as she left her Daddy’s lap to sit beside Kate and study Irene intently. "You preddy." And she was. Kind of like Papa, but without the warmth.

Irene returned her gaze but toned it down so as not to scare her – although she doubted she’d be scared of her. _ I’m sure Sherlock has started to teach her to rely on her wits to _ scare _ others off and not let herself be intimidated by them. Well, consider it two persons who’ll teach her that. If they let me and, more importantly, if _ she _ lets me. _

‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘So are you. And very clever, that much is obvious. Much more than you let on, I imagine.’

Rosie nodded looking up at Kate. "You preddy too."

Kate laughed softly. "Thank you Rosie. And I agree with Irene. You are very pretty and very smart. Just like your Papa and Daddy. Maybe we can convince them to bring you and Sultan over for tea sometime. We'd like to be better friends with them."

Clara smiled, watching Irene and Kate talk with Rosie. The dinner could have been a disaster but it turned out to have been a rather nice moment, bringing Harry’s best man and his partner and her own chief bridesmaid and her partner closer or at least bridging the very large, very deep gap between them.

Harry watched Rosie and Irene carefully. One wrong move and she'd snatch her niece away and put her back with John or Sherlock. She could potentially see how Irene could teach Rosie useful things, but not at this age.

John watched carefully guarded but relaxed as he slid his hand along Sherlock's leg. While everyone else was more or less distracted he'd distract Sherlock a bit more. "Why don't you help me finish the cannoli," he murmured in his ear.

Sherlock’s attention went immediately to John’s hand on his leg, soft but determined pressure, a promise for more. His breath caught in his throat at John’s blatant advances in a public place and his heart beat faster. ‘I… yes, I’ll help. I’m… ravenous. You’re…not hungry anymore?’

John smirked. "Oh, you know me, I'm always hungry. But I know you like cannoli. Especially the sweet cream filling," he purred in Sherlock's ear. "Don't you think it's about time we left? It's well past Rosie's bedtime. By the time we walk home she'll have burned off all the sugar she's had. We'll tuck her into bed and probably won't hear a peep from her until morning."

‘I… yes, I expect you’re right. It is getting rather late, we should go home and… go to bed,’ he replied, flustered.

He smiled at Harry. "It's been a wonderful evening. Much better than I expected. Let me know if I'm being dragged along shopping tomorrow," John teased her. "Rosie, love, can you say goodnight to everyone? It's time we headed home. Everyone's going home. It's about time for Angelo to close for the evening so he can go home too," he explained before she could protest.

Looking to Harry and Clara she sighed. "We go shoppins 'morrow?"

Harry smiled. "If the weather's good, I'm sure we will. And I'm sure your Daddy and Papa will bundle you up nice and warm and we'll shop. The outdoor markets are so fun. Especially this time of year. Fresh gingerbread, roasted nuts, hot cider, chocolate, marzipan. And you can help us pick out pretty decorations for the wedding."

She looked up at John and Sherlock looking determined. "We go."

John smiled picking her up and kissing her cheek. "So long as it's not snowing too much or too cold. Papa knows about the weather and can figure out what it may do. Let's ask him."

"Papa? We go."

Sherlock looked very seriously at Rosie, doing his best weatherman impression. ‘It did snow heavily the day before yesterday and since then the temperatures have been very cold. Remember yesterday, when we went outside shopping for jumpers and scarves, the air was biting. Now when we were out in the street to come here, what could you see in the sky? It wasn’t blue, was it? No, it was grey, almost white as if it were going to snow soon. I think it would be better to go the day after tomorrow because I am fairly certain that you’ll wake up to a white London, with snow still falling. However, the good thing with that is that we can all burrow under blankets and have scalding hot tea or hot chocolate,’ he gave an apologetic smile, hoping his last comment would make his weather prediction better.

Kate smiled taking Irene's hand. "We really should get them a better pushchair. One that will hold Rosie and Sultan. Suitable for long walks around the city with space to hold things they pick up shopping. I'm sure you could call in some favours and get something delivered."

Irene looked at her smugly. ‘What makes you think I haven’t already, darling? I’ve texted to have it arranged when you went with Rosie to the loo.’

‘Ah, Sherlock!’ Angelo exclaimed, coming to them while they were putting their coats on. ‘I hope you’ve enjoyed, eh?’

‘Oh, it was _ delicious _,’ Clara replied. ‘Thank you! We’ll be sure to come back, maybe to plan the wedding of these two,’ she added mischievously. For the bill…’

‘No, no, no, no, no, miss Clara, I don’t want to hear anything about that,’ he protested. ‘It’s been a pleasure to serve all of you and see you eat with appetite, that’s the best payment,’ he chuckled.

‘I told you so, did I not?’ Sherlock butted in, wrapping his arm around John’s waist after he’d tied his scarf around his neck.

Rosie looked ready to pout before suddenly smiling. "More snow means we goes sleddins! Right Daddy?!"

John grinned kissing her cheek. "Who's my clever girl?! Yes, if there's enough snow you, and me, and Papa, and Sultan will go sledging. And then we'll warm up with hot chocolate and shortbread biscuits with Mrs Hudson."

Nodding she smiled. "Shoppins day affer 'morrow."

Harry laughed kissing her cheek. "Well if it's that snowy tomorrow Clara and I just might have to join you. We'll take you ice skating. Just like the pretty people on tv."

Nodding Rosie leaned out of John's arms to hug Harry and then Clara tightly.

Kate smiled leaning into Irene. "And don't forget horse-drawn carriage rides. Or sleigh rides if there's enough snow. Sometimes they bring out the beautiful antique sleighs. Just like in the Nutcracker."

Eyes lighting up Rosie nodded. "Yeah. Watched wif Gran-Mary! Pretty. We go. I go wif you."

Kate smiled cheeks pink. "Well, only if it's all right with your Daddy and Papa."

Sherlock and John shared a look – dinner _ had _ gone relatively well, considering the surprise company of Kate and Irene; however neither of them were especially keen on furthering their acquaintance any more than what was strictly necessary. Sherlock in particular was opposed to it, conscious that Irene would in all probability try to bring them to agree to prepare their own wedding when they’d _ just _ got together and upset the balance they’d created and their growing ease with each other. They had gone through a number of… trials and even though they’d both said that it was all… fine, he was perfectly aware that it most certainly wasn’t.

For Irene – or anyone else for that matter, but she was the most likely person to do so, however unwittingly – to upset that delicate balance would have drastic consequences which he was not prepared to consider, let alone face.

He was daunted in the face of the mere idea of refusing Rosie anything but her bright expectant look made it even more difficult. He looked for support from Harry, Clara, John – even Kate, but they all seemed to think that the decision was his to take. He took Rosie in his arms, hoping that the proximity would help him get his message across with minimal fuss and inspired deeply.

‘It is an excellent idea that Kate has brought up, but we’re not close enough to them yet to spend time together as if we’d known each other for years. I know you have warmed up to them but I don’t know if it would be such a fantastic idea – this soon upon meeting for the first time,’ he told her firmly, his eyes locked to hers.

‘What Sherlock is saying, Rosie, is that _ tomorrow _ is too soon. He didn’t say _ never _,’ Clara added in an effort to explain properly.

‘I think it might be too soon,’ Irene chimed in. ‘But who’s to say that we won’t see each other for New Year’s?’ she cajoled in the hope that Rosie wouldn’t start a tantrum. If she was right, and she knew she was, Sherlock’s propensity to throw these _ as an adult _would only make for stronger ones in a toddler.

Rosie's lip quivered as she pressed her face into Sherlock's shoulder. "No sleigh?"

John rubbed her back. "Maybe. If they're out. Papa and I will take you. That was very nice of you to invite your new friends. You'll see them when we go shopping."

Kate nodded. "Of course, Rosie. When we shop I'll need your help picking things."

Rosie huffed much like Sherlock when he wasn't getting his way. "Otay," she muttered with a pout.

"That's my girl." John smiled. "You can hold Sultan's lead on the walk home if you hold on to me or Papa too." Appeased she nodded still holding on to Sherlock who held her tighter and gave a kiss to her forehead.

‘Thank you for understanding, darling,’ he told her. ‘As Daddy said, it was very nice to invite Kate and Irene. I promise we’ll have fun tomorrow regardless, Rosie,’ he added kissing her cheek. ‘But it is time to go home now, let’s put that coat on properly and tie your scarf just as I taught you. To protect you from the cold, not to be stylish,’ he precised in a chuckle. ‘And then we’ll say goodbye to everyone and walk home to have a good night’s sleep.’

After giving everyone, including Angelo, hugs Rosie was somewhat less disappointed to be leaving her new friends. She'd insisted on giving Irene and Kate hugs too because that's what friends did. John smiled watching her. She was so sweet and loved everyone; a fact he was incredibly proud of.

In two minutes everyone was ready to face the cold, coats, gloves and scarves on to keep it at bay or at least so as not to be bitten by it.

‘Even Sultan’s got his own little jacket, this is so cute!’ Clara exclaimed while taking Harry’s hand and pulling the door open. ‘Goodbye, Angelo! It really was delicious, thank you again!’ she added as she passed the threshold.

He looked up from over the till, watching this nice company leave and waving them goodbye as he assured again in a broad smile that the pleasure had been his and he’d welcome them anytime they came.

Harry smiled. "Of course Sultan has his own coat. He's little and needs extra protection from the cold. And yes, we'll get him some 'thank you' gifts for being in the wedding."

‘Stop reading my mind, you,’ Clara protested in a chuckle. ‘The puppy will be as spoilt as his master. Sorry, mistress,’ she added when trying to hail for a cab to their hotel room. There was no sense in taking a train back home at this hour especially if they were going to town on the following day.

Harry smiled kissing her cheek. "Just goes to show how well I know you. Next thing I know you'll have me convinced that we need a dog too. Or a cat. Or a bird. Or at least one of each," she teased Clara affectionately.

‘Of course not,’ Clara huffed softly. ‘Don’t need a dog, there’s Sultan. Who needs a cat when Sherlock Holmes is part of the family? The man does behave like one, sometimes.

As for a bird… Well no. I already have the most precious birds of all, why should I want another?’ she said, taking her arm and pressing against her.

Harry snorted a laugh, shaking her head with a fond smile at Clara. "Oh you are such a charmer. And an outrageous flirt. Part of the reason I fell for you. You seem so sweet and polite and demure. And then you go and turn on the charm," she teased gently pulling her closer. "Thank you for giving me another chance at making this right."

Expression soberer, more serious, Clara squeezed her arm. ‘You were very… persistent, love. And the fact that you already had been sober for a year before starting to win me back… I admit it helped my feelings for you to burn anew. Even though they were still there,’ she added in a low voice. ‘Thank you for persevering and coming back relentlessly. We wouldn’t be here together, stronger than before had you not…’

Smiling she kissed Clara's cheek gently. "Well I knew I didn't want to try and be an auntie to little Rosie without you as part of her life. Figured you'd help me be a good role model for her. And you'd be an excellent one yourself. She adores you."

‘She adores you as well,’ she chuckled. ‘I’m sure the Watson blood helps enhance the connection,’ she teased. ‘I know it does with me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s like a glamour.’

Harry laughed leaning in to kiss Clara's cheek. "Mm hadn't you figured out that we're really of the Sidhe? Explains ever so much when you know that. We enchant the humans we fall in love with so that we're irresistible to them. We only make ourselves appear 'normal' so we're better able to lure in our prospective mate," she teased her.

‘”Normal” is not a word I’d use to describe you, love. “Eccentric” sounds so much more like you,’ she teased back. ‘I do have to admit that you’ve lured me completely,’ she added warmly, sighing as she finally caught a cab. ‘But _ I _ will be luring _ you _ to a place where you and I can burrow together under warm covers,’ she said as the cab pulled in front of them. ‘Holiday Inn in Kensington,’ she addressed the cabbie as they settled inside, heading to get much needed sleep.

Kate watched Sherlock, John, and Rosie heading back toward Baker Street with Sultan bouncing along. "I was beginning to think they'd never get it sorted out." Squeezing Irene's hand she kissed her cheek. "Thank you for doing so wonderfully tonight," she said walking towards the car that was parked a few yards away, waiting for them.

Both women took their coats off before settling in the warm car.

‘I tried but I’m not sure it was enough,’ Irene contemplated. ‘I must admit that your presence and incentive made me want to try harder,’ she added.

Kate nodded. "Well all things considered I think you did very well. You didn't needle Sherlock too much. I'm happy for them. And I know you are too."

‘I admit I am,’ she replied after a short pause. ‘Please don’t repeat it. To anyone. Least of all them,’ she asked.

Kate smiled. "Our little secret. But I think you sending such an extravagant gift might clue them in might, just might, clue them in that you're happy for them."

‘Hm,’ Irene mumbled. ‘I doubt it. John’s grudge is much too strong and too deeply seated; not to mention his dislike and distrust of me. As for Sherlock, not only is he reluctant to take part in anything that involves me, he’s also still evidently processing every emotion that comes his way. No danger on that side. It’s better than ignoring them,’ she added after a short pause.

Kate smiled. "Well maybe one of these days they'll both decide to let the past be the past and decide everything's worked out for the best in the end. All we can do is show them that things are different now. It was very nice to see them happy and to meet Rosie after all of Clara's praise of her. She's darling."

The women fell silent as the drive continued smoothly through the streets of London. Irene had taken Kate’s hand in hers and put her head against her shoulder, relishing her presence and the warm bubble they were in, until the car stopped. ‘It seems we’ve arrived, darling. Thank you, Giuseppe,’ she said as she exited the chauffeured vehicle.

‘Now, dear. I think it’s high time we retire. These shoes are killing me, and I’m constricted in that dress,’ she said mischievously as she was taking her coat off in the lobby of their house.

Kate laughed with a smirk. "Yes, yes, I’m sure it is. Give me a moment and I'll help you get out of it and run a hot bubble bath to chase away the chill. I'm going to assume you'd like the jets in it turned on."

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘It will be a very nice bonus to have you turned on as well,’ she continued, her tone seductive. ‘That is a sure way to warm both of us up.’ She watched as Kate took her own shoes off and walked to the bathroom where water flowed a few moments later, a heavily floral perfume wafting through the air. A large smile grew on her lips.

Kate hummed as Irene chose something classical to play through the speakers tastefully hidden around the house. "Water's perfect." She smiled stealing a kiss. "You get in and I'll join you as soon as I'm out of my clothes."

‘Yes, miss Calan,’ she smiled back, running her fingers along Kate’s arms. ‘Please be swift,’ she asked even as she pulled her closer. ‘Water will only be perfect when I’m in it with you.’

  
Sherlock had passed his arm in the crook of John’s and was holding Rosie’s hand while she was guiding Sultan’s lead on their walk back home.

‘Look up, dear,’ he said as a tiny snowflake landed on his forehead. ‘I was right about having snow tomorrow,’ he declared as he observed the slow, slightly swirling descent of white-looking, crystallised ice water.

John smiled leaning into Sherlock. "Mmm... really is beautiful when it snows. And you look particularly beautiful with snowflakes glittering in your hair and on your ridiculously long lashes."   
Rosie giggled catching snowflakes on her tongue. "Cold!"

Sherlock turned his head slightly to watch John more closely, an obviously fake air of hurt and disappointment on his face. ‘I am not ridiculous. Neither are my eyelashes, John. And snowflakes do not glitter. _ Glisten _ , maybe. That’s a bit less flamboyant than you’d like it but it _ is _more accurate,’ he let go of John’s arm and passed his fingers through his hair, shaking the snowflakes off. ‘You don’t want to damage your eyesight and blind yourself with too much brightness,’ he declared by way of explanation.

John chuckled shaking his head. "Well I think from here on out, I'll just take the risk of snow blindness if it means I get to look at you in the glitterrng snow that happens to make you more beautiful. Ethereal, I think is the word I'm looking for," he was only half-teasing. Sherlock did happen to look beautiful with a dusting of glittering and glistening snow in his dark hair and long lashes. Rosie walked between them tipping her head backward with a smile.

John tapped her slightly red nose gently. "Almost home. We'll have a bit of warm milk and a story before bed."

Not only had John praised his intelligence and his behaviour - when it warranted it - in the past, he now also gave him compliments on his appearance. Still very much startled that it was possible for him to be considered beautiful, that _ John _ saw _ him _ as a good person with a beautiful body, Sherlock blushed and looked down, silent.

John smiled taking advantage of Sherlock's lowered head to press a kiss to his cold cheek.

***

As they came home, John managed to get Rosie changed into warm pyjamas while Sherlock made a pot of warm milk. Smiling as she ran laps around the living room and kitchen wearing the hood of her bee blanket over her head, little wings on the back waving and stinger bobbing with Sultan chasing her he leaned against the counter next to Sherlock with a smile.   
"Hopefully they'll wear each other out pretty soon."

‘I should think they will. If not Sultan, Rosie at least will soon fall prey to her exhausting day. There’s only so much energy she can muster,’ he replied with a smile of his own making his way to the kitchen. ‘Warm milk for the little buzzing bee. Tea, as well?’ he enquired, looking at John who chuckled.

"I think you're possibly underestimating the energy reserves of a toddler. Especially a toddler bee and her puppy." He carefully dodged the pair as they raced across his path. "Yes, tea would be very appreciated. Doesn't need to be herbal tea since you and I will still be up," he emphasized the word slightly. "For some time yet."

‘Hm, I really don’t think her energy will be as intense after she’s had her milk. She’s excited to be home, even if she’s had a good day and met new people not to mention her aunts. That’s bound to be exhausting. Even for a toddler who seems to have limitless amounts of energy,’ he countered as he prepared their tea. ‘Since you and I are going to be up, I took the liberty of selecting a strong leaf tea. I assume that’s not a problem.’

"Definitely not a problem." John murmured stealing a kiss. "All right, Rosie Bee. Come sit with us and have your milk while Papa reads you and Sultan a story." He herded them toward the couch setting his tea down carefully.

‘What story should I read?’ Sherlock asked even as he brought his own cup of tea and Rosie’s bowl of milk. ‘Do you want me to continue reading The Hobbit or… The tale of a sleeping princess seems more fitting,’ he commented as he caught her hide a yawn. He placed her bowl of milk on the small table in front of the sofa as she sat on it. He took a book from the shelf and returned to settle next to her so that Rosie would be sitting between her two fathers. When she was comfortably settled between them, he started reading.

‘Sleeping Beauty. _ Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who were very unhappy because they had no children. But at last a little daughter was born, and their sorrow was turned to joy. All the bells in the land were rung to tell the glad tidings. _ An excellent comparison could be drawn with you who brought your Daddy and your Papa together. A child bringing joy,’ he murmured before continuing.

Rosie huffed a bit frowning at the queen. How silly. "Pwincess needed two daddies. Make everything bedder."

John smiled kissing the top of her head. "Well you are a princess with two daddies. But the princess in the story only had one. Just listen to Papa."

‘_ The king gave a christening feast so grand that the like of it had never been known. He invited all the fairies he could find in the kingdom—there were seven of them—to come to the christening as godmothers. He hoped that each would give the princess a good gift _.’

Seeing the good fairies she smiled brightly. "Like me! Gots Nana an' Grammy an' Auntie Molly an' Auntie Hawwy an' Auntie Clawa an' Auntie Antea!!"

John laughed softly. "And a lucky girl you are to have all of them, too."

Sherlock gave a soft smile at Rosie’s interest in the fairy tale and at how she related it to her own short life.

‘_ When the christening was over, the feast came. Before each of the fairies was placed a plate with a spoon, a knife, and a fork—all pure gold. But alas! As the fairies were about to seat themselves at the table, there came into the hall a very old fairy who had not been invited. She had left the kingdom fifty years before and had not been seen or heard of until this day.’ _he looked sheepishly at John ‘There should always be a spectre at the feast. A harbinger of bad tidings. But I’m sure there’ll be a way around her dark disposition,’ he added before continuing.

Rosie listened intently little fingers tracing over the detailed illustrations. "Bad lady." She poked the picture with a frown. "No hurt pwincess.”

John chuckled. "That's right. She was a very bad fairy."

_ ‘The king at once ordered that a plate should be brought for her, but he could not furnish a gold one such as the others had. This made the old fairy angry, and she sat there muttering to herself. _

_ A young fairy who sat near overheard her angry threats. This good godmother, fearing the old fairy might give the child an unlucky gift, hid herself behind a curtain. She did this because she wished to speak last and perhaps be able to change the old fairy’s gift.’ _ Sherlock paused. ‘Oh, she’s a clever one,’ he commented while John hugged Rosie close as she started to drift off. "Smart fairy hidins," she mumbled. "Cwever....."   
Soon she was sound asleep cuddled into John and one hand lightly holding on to one of Sultan's silky ears.   
"I think the rest of the story will have to wait for another night." He smiled at Sherlock who closed and put away the book with its collection of fairy tales.

‘Indeed. I told you she would fall prey to her exhaustion soon,’ he commented. ‘Speaking of exhaustion… I fully expect to be exhausted after you’ve had your way with me,’ he purred. ‘You need to let go of all that pent up frustration,’ he said in a low, seductive voice as he brushed his lips against John’s ear.

"There you go again, using your voice as a weapon against me. You lnow I'm helpless when you do that," he scolded playfully. "If you'd carry her, I'll carry Sultan and we'll get them all settled in bed. Then we'll see what I can do to exhaust you," he smirked carefully easing the sleeping puppy into his arms.

Sherlock frowned ever so slightly with an air of mock indignation. ‘I don’t do that. Not on purpose, anyway,’ he amended as he collected Rosie into his arms. ‘Lead the way, Captain. Or would you rather I walk before you, open the march so to speak… and let your imagination run wild as you admire my backside?’

"You may not do it on purpose but you know what it does to me," John chuckled. "And since you offered, take her on up. I'll get the lights off and make sure the door's locked and be right behind you. And get to admire the view while I'm at it."

‘Your wish is my command,’ Sherlock answered his voice still low before bestowing a kiss on John’s cheek and promptly turning around to slowly take the stairs, one by one, holding himself excessively straight and exaggerating the movements of his hips.

"Teasing bastard..." he grinned making sure the doors were locked and all the lights except those on the tree and mantle were off, leaving only a soft warm glow. Upstairs he tucked Sultan in next to Rosie smiling at how the two cuddled together. "We'll have to get to work on redecorating up here. Needs more colour, make it more appealing for a little girl and her faithful companion."

‘I agree. You’ve mentioned it to Rosie and she wants to paint. It could be a nice thing to do before the New Year so she can have an improved room decorated according to her tastes. Of course it means that she’ll have to sleep at Mrs Hudson’s. It is absolutely out of the question that she sleeps in the room while the odour of paint and its toxic fumes permeate the air.’ He slipped his hand in John’s, watching as Rosie’s chest heaved slowly as she breathed and buried her tiny fists in Sultan’s fur.

John squeezed his hand stroking it with his thumb. "You being so concerned about here is an incredible turn on. They do make low odour non toxic fumes paint now you know. She wouldn't _ have _to stay with Mrs Hudson, but I think they'd both enjoy it. And it means we don't have to be as quiet or discreet," he smirked.

‘Let’s get back downstairs, John. She’ll sleep just as well. Besides,’ he added in a sultry whisper, ‘you and I have business to attend to.’

Kissing his cheek he nodded. "Mm I did make a promise. And I don't want to break my promise to you. I doubt those two will stir until morning. Lead on my love."

‘With pleasure,’ he replied pulling even as John followed him eagerly. ‘I’ve been wanting to feel your hands all over me ever since dinner. Hurry,’ he scrambled the last two stairs, half jogging to their bedroom, stumbling onto a pile of paper he’d left on the floor and opened their bedroom door with a flourish, turning around to crash his mouth against John’s.

John wrapped a strong arm around Sherlock, keeping him from falling over the pile of papers he'd left in the doorway. "Careful there. The last thing I want to happen tonight is us at the A&E because you fell and hit your head and I'm worried about a concussion." Kissing him eagerly he smiled. "Have I told you how much I love it when you're impatient and can't get enough? Because I really do." He nibbled his lip with a low growl hands making short work of the buttons on Sherlock's snug fitting shirt. He'd definitely put weight back on since he and Rosie had moved in. "God, you're gorgeous..." He gently pushed Sherlock back on the bed.

Sherlock spread his arms and legs in a welcoming plea, the pans of his shirt open onto his flat chest with the bare minimum of hair, rising quickly and already flushed.

‘Well, Captain. Feast your eyes quickly. A more tasteful feast awaits, I’m sure,’ he pleaded, wiggling his backside against the mattress.

John snickered trailing kisses along Sherlock's neck as he lightly pinned his wrists in place. "Now I think I've warned you before about rushing. A feast like this..." he licked a slow stripe along Sherlock's neck, "…is not something to be rushed. As much as both of us might like. No. It is to be savoured. And I intend on savouring you," John husked pressing his palm down against Sherlock's rapidly rising erection and sliding his hand down over it slowly. "We've got hours." He kissed him hotly.

Sherlock groaned under John’s tongue and touch, arching his back to find more friction. ‘Hours…’ he echoed. ‘More,’ he moaned returning John’s fervent kiss with further urgency as he rubbed his thigh against John’s hard groin.

John groaned deeply. "That's right, love. Hours and hours. You are such a tease," he panted. "Wanted to get you out of these clothes the whole evening. Did so well tonight. So proud of you my gorgeous posh boy," he purred stroking him as he nipped at Sherlock's ear, a bit of revenge. "Never get enough of you. Sit up. Let's get that shirt off. Trousers and pants too while we're at it."

After his mind went momentary blank, Sherlock all but scrambled, panting to comply with John’s wishes. _ Orders _ . He would have torn the shirt on his back had it still been buttoned up so swiftly he acted to take it off. When it came to take his trousers and pants off, however, his movements were more awkward, despite having taken his shoes off earlier in the evening. Frustrated, he yanked the flies of his trousers open, effectively tearing them apart. ‘Would have preferred _ you _ ’d do that. With _ purpose _,’ he commented, finishing to bare himself for John’s pleasure. ‘And now, Captain? How do you want me?’ he sussured, breathing loudly as he came closer to his partner to grind against him.

John suppressed a chuckle at Sherlock's slight wobble as he tried to get undressed as quickly as possible. "You know, you really should be more careful with your clothes, love. Lucky I know enough sewing to probably be able to fix buttons that have popped off. And maybe replace a zipper. Besides I like seeing how quickly you move when I give you an order," he teased kissing him eagerly. "Like this. Just like this. Want to see you, kiss you."

‘More…’ Sherlock begged, bringing his hands on John’s strong, fully clothed arms, his fingers clenching at the fabric of his shirt, careful of not tearing it but evidently wanting it off.   
‘May I…?’ he breathed.

John chuckled stealing a kiss. "Mmmm so polite. How can I possibly resist when you're being so polite? Careful though. Brand new shirt. I'd hate to have to search all over for the buttons." Smiling he slid his hands over Sherlock's chest slowly. "Always amazes me how beautiful you are..."

Sherlock blushed and lowered his head, bringing his trembling fingers to work on the buttons of John’s shirt, lips parted in reverence and anticipation. ‘Still can’t believe…’ he whispered as his eyes roamed on John’s chest, unable to keep his hands still on John’s hips, venturing to grope his buttocks in the fitted black jeans he’d chosen for him, loose enough to allow for comfort… but evidently _ not _ that comfortable anymore.

John gave a wry chuckle. "You can't believe it? I feel the same way. Can't believe you're mine. So lucky," he murmured grinding his hips slowly against Sherlock's. "Wanted you all night. Took everything I had to behave myself," he husked kissing and nipping a trail down his neck leaving small marks that would likely still be faintly visible in the morning. "Need you," he husked.

Sherlock panted, moaning under John’s attention. ‘Harder, John. You don’t… need to behave, now. Mark me…’ he begged, ‘make me yours...’ he continued, rambling as he threw his head backwards in submission, giving more room for John to bite him.

"Mmm now that we're through with the holidays and family don't have to be so careful. Going to make sure the whole bloody world knows that you're mine. Anyone gets it in their head that they can try and make you theirs... Not going to be pretty," John husked, voice a low rumble as he kissed, nipped, and sucked along Sherlock's neck leaving several marks that would be vibrant red and purple by morning.

Sherlock gasped as John left his mark on him, colouring his slightly pale skin, clenching his fingers tight against his arms, moaning lowly.   
‘Yours…’ he breathed, pressing his naked body against John’s trousers. He dimly registered that he should be doing something to remedy that, but John was in control of everything – and the control Sherlock had over his own body had melted under Captain Watson’s dominance. He only pressed himself harder, unable to do more.

"Damn right you're mine," he husked hand sliding over Sherlock's chest to wrap around his cock stroking slowly. "Love getting to touch you, being the one that's making you make those wonderful noises." As much as he wanted and needed to bury himself as deep as possible in Sherlock he'd hold off at least a little longer to make sure he had him completely ready. "So gorgeous..."

‘Please… You’re… fascinating puzzle, work of art… Need you,’ he pleaded. ‘I love when you touch me… No one else… But I need you… closer,’ he rambled, his voice breathy moans against John’s lips, his hands clutching at John’s strong arms then exploring downwards, fumbling over the buttons of John’s jeans.

"You push my limits of control," John rumbled pressing his forehead to Sherlock's shoulder to try and catch his breath and keep from ravaging Sherlock the way they both wanted. "Just gotta be a bit patient. Gotta make sure you're ready. Don't want to hurt you. Not ever." Not ever _ again _ was what he left unsaid pressing a kiss to the scar in the centre of Sherlock's chest. "So incredible," he murmured blindly reaching for the small bottle of lube Sherlock had stashed under the pillows. "Love being able to kiss you and look at you."

‘I’m ready. Won’t hurt me. Kiss me,’ Sherlock entreated, placing a weak hand on John’s head, a silent plea for having his lips on him. ‘I need to feel you… Please, John. I want you so much… Touch your warmth… Please,’ he repeated, his voice shaking so strong were his excitement and impatience. ‘Can’t… without… John,’ he whispered in a broken tone.

"Shhhh..." John soothed kissing him slowly. "It's all right, love, you're all right. I'm here. You've got me. Not going anywhere. Promise. Don't have to worry about that. Or be so impatient," he scolded gently with a smile. "You're so beautiful..." John murmured softly. 

Kissing him slowly John carefully pushed into him hands sliding over Sherlock's pale skin. "Love you. Always love you. Love you more every day," he murmured softly.

‘John!’ he exclaimed against his lips, arching his back, pressing himself even closer, undulating against John silently urging him for more. ‘So good… better… Want you all the time… John… I… I love you. Always, John…! Let me…’ he moaned, his fingers playing with the waistband of John’s boxer shorts.

John smiled nudging Sherlock's nose. "Mmmm want you all the time too. Always. It's been like that from the day we met. Just managed to hide it well. Never going to be a time I don't want you, need you. And there will never be a time I don't love you completely and unconditionally." Nodding he kissed him slowly. He didn't miss the slight crinkle of Sherlock's nose. "Yes, I know you hate my boxers but everything else is in the wash. Only pair of clean pants I had." He shrugged one shoulder and added with a smirk. "All the more reason for you to get me out of them as quickly as possible."

Sherlock’s eyes turned darker, emboldened by John’s invitation and slipped his hands in John’s pants, finally touching the warmth of his most private parts, feeling John’s rock hard cock he wrapped his fingers around it and stroked. ‘Finally…’ he whispered against John’s lips before working the offensive garment down John’s legs with urgency.

John couldn't help but giggle at Sherlock's indignant huff at the very plain serviceable standard army issue cotton boxers. Gently tangling his hand in Sherlock's mahogany curls he kissed him hotly. "Yes, I know you hate them." He panted softly bucking slightly into Sherlock's grip. "Finally..."

‘I think I hate even more not touching you,’ he growled, grinding against John’s prick, taking them both in hand bringing forth loud sighs and moans. ‘John… I _ really _ need you…’ he started begging asking again.

"Since you ask so sweetly..." John moaned deeply kissing Sherlock eagerly. Taking only as much time as was absolutely necessary he carefully pushed into Sherlock. "Always feel so good..."

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Sherlock concurred, his hands sliding along John’s back, clutching tightly at the muscles as he threw his head deeper into the pillow. ‘I’ve missed it… missed you having me,’ he breathed, his body already trembling from the relief and the pleasure of John’s attentions.

Smiling lovingly at him, John kissed him slowly. "I know. Missed you too. You're incredible." Sliding his hands over him he thrust slowly savouring the feel of Sherlock under him.

Moans and sighs came out of Sherlock’s mouth, shudders and slight contractions of his muscles was how his body expressed itself. ‘_ You _are,’ he countered in yet another breathy moan. ‘Damnit… John… it’s so good… Feel so full of you,’ he groaned. ‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he encouraged as John thrust into him with slow and deep fervour.

"Never get enough of you. My sweet love. My Sherlock," he murmured nuzzling and nibbling along his neck lightly. Sliding his hands over him slowly he smiled. "Amazing... Love how you feel. Waited so long. Never get enough of you. Best addiction I could have."

‘Ironic. The drug addict is actually a drug,’ he chuckled, high on the endorphins John’s lovemaking was releasing in his bloodstream.

"Mmm best drug ever..." John rumbled. "Who needs drugs when I have you?”

‘Harder,’ Sherlock moaned begging, clutching his hands to John’s waist, pulling him in in an attempt to urge John to increase the strength and depth of his thrusts.

Shaking his head with a fond smile John rolled his eyes. "Always so bossy. But I guess I agree. Legs around my waist,” he murmured with a hint of command as he angled his thrusts deeper and faster and Sherlock dissolved himself in sighs and moans that turned into loud groans. His breathing had become shorter, more ragged as John pounded into him, but he held his hands tightly on John’s waist, urging him to maintain the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘John…’ he breathed, his lips forming an O-shape as John hit a sensitive spot. ‘Make me…’ he groaned.

"You are so unbelievably beautiful," John panted as he pressed kisses to his lips and along his neck. "Never a time I'll get enough of you. You're a miracle, Sherlock. Don't ever think you're not. Best thing to ever happen to me. Love you more every day," he murmured, pressing his forehead to Sherlock's. "Going to come for me, love? My bumble."

Sherlock shook his head against the pillow, clenching his teeth so strong was the pleasure he felt. ‘Not yet. Please. Please, John. I want to… I want to,’ he panted ‘_ Scream _ , _ ’ _he finished.

"Ohhh I can make you scream love, no doubt about that," he chuckled a bit breathlessly. "Love getting to make you scream. Just focus on me." Kissing him hotly John tapped Sherlock's hip grabbing a pillow. "Up." Shoving the folded pillow under Sherlock's hips he smirked. "That's more like it." Holding on to Sherlock's thighs in a bruising grip he thrust hard and deep, barely pausing between thrusts as he gazed down at Sherlock’s face, contorted in ecstasy as John hit the delicate bundle of nerves inside him again and again.

‘Yes!’ Sherlock called out, eyes rolling backwards behind his closed eyelids. ‘So… perfect,’ he groaned breathlessly, the muscles of his jaw contracting once more along with all the others in his body. The rapture he was experiencing was so intense that his toes curled of their own accord, proof that he’d long ago lost any control over his transport.

"That's it, beautiful..." John praised breathlessly gazing adoringly down at Sherlock. Luckily their Rosie could sleep through almost anything. "You know I love hearing you," he husked thrusting hard and deep, hips snapping sharply. He'd never seen Sherlock so completely surrendered to anything.

‘I’m… Yours… John…!’ he cried out again, taking sharp, short intakes of breath while clutching, gripping more tightly on John’s back; but before long his muscles cramped as his pleasure exploded.

"That's it, love, you're so good. Let go now. I've got you," John panted watching Sherlock. "Beautiful." He could never get enough of watching Sherlock or sharing his life. Tangling a hand in Sherlock's curls he kissed him hard as he came with Sherlock holding him tight. "Love," he panted.

Sherlock held him tighter, refusing to let go even as both their breathing had come back to a slower rhythm. He didn’t want to lose the warmth John was bringing him even if only for a few short moments, nor did he want to let go of John lest it would suggest there still was doubt in regards to his affection. ‘Love,’ Sherlock repeated, depositing tender kisses on and around John’s lips.

John smiled nudging his nose against Sherlock's and returning his kisses as he slid his hands over him slowly. "Love you too. Amazing."

Sherlock looked at him with an adoring air, rapture written on his every feature, all traces of the concern he’d worked up at the restaurant vanished. He breathed a contented sigh.

However his mind did not stay quiet for long.

‘John. What was that talk of a family reunion? As far I am aware you don’t have an extended family,’ he enquired.

John chuckled dropping his head to Sherlock's shoulder and sliding his hands over him slowly. "Extended being the main word there. Bunch of second and third cousins. Mostly it's put together by my great aunt. Gran's sister. She must be... over 80 by now. Gran's family was pretty well off and Aunt Adelaide married well. She's a pistol. You'll love her. Reminds me a fair bit of Mrs Hudson."

‘Hm, reminds you of Mrs Hudson in the way that one should not “judge a book by its cover” I assume? I never knew you had Scottish origins,’ Sherlock reflected after a short pause.

John giggled shaking his head and stealing a kiss. "Mmm 'Hamish' wasn't a dead give-away... Really... All that effort you put in to figuring out my middle name and you didn't look into the origins of it." Chuckling he ran his hand through Sherlock's curls. "Love that I surprise you every once in a great while."

Sherlock inhaled, a soft smile playing on his lips. ‘You do surprise me. More often than “once in a great while”. Besides, your parents could have given you that middle name for any number of reasons.’

"And they did. Because of the Scottish roots in both our families. Of course Dad earned his black sheep of the family reputation by being a complete drunken arse most of the time." He shrugged slightly. "Harry stayed in touch with some of the family. I was busy with Uni, med school, military, getting shot. Sort of lost touch with them after Gran died. I think she's still got a sister. Great Aunt Adelaide. She was... is... a bit wild."

‘Hm, that is a fair reason for well-off families to severe ties with anyone who reflects… badly on them,’ Sherlock replied thoughtfully. ‘Wild?’ he continued. ‘That’s certainly intriguing. Although I imagine that it’s a family trait,’ he turned on his side, winking. ‘I confess I’d like to meet her, as well as the rest of your extended family. You are the most important person in my life, and since nurture is clearly not the way to learn more about you, nature is the safest bet. Hence, meeting your relatives. However removed they are.’

Laughing warmly John gently pulled Sherlock close. "You want to meet the rest of the family so you can analyse them for traits that I have and Rosie might," he teased lovingly. "Aunt Adelaide's got a big estate. Hundreds, thousands of acres. I've seen pictures. Actually, she's got more than one. Several other homes scattered here and there. She was a nurse during World War Two." Grinning he nuzzled Sherlock's curls. "She smokes, she drinks, she cusses enough to make a sailor blush and I adored her as a child. She helped with med school expenses if scholarships didn't quite cover everything and I couldn't work enough hours."

‘Several homes. A large estate. And you tease me about being posh,’ Sherlock teased. ‘I’d like to see pictures, too. Your Aunt Adelaide sounds… well she sounds like Harry. A handful, too,’ he chuckled.

John snorted smiling at Sherlock. "I don't think ‘handful’ quite covers it. She's my great aunt. I've seen her maybe five times my entire life. Not like I grew up on those estates. I've got pictures stuck somewhere or other. She was an ambulance driver and field medic during the war and was quite good at telling the Germans and Russians exactly where they could go and what they could do on the way there in their language."

‘Oh, I like her more and more,’ he replied. ‘You might not have grown up on these estates but Rosie might… When is that family reunion?’

John shrugged. "Harry didn't give any specifics. I'll ask her. And get in touch with Aunt Adelaide. I think Rosie will adore the shaggy Highland cattle. Most of them are pretty gentle from what I've heard."

‘Yes, she will, I’m sure, just as Sultan will love running around free on Scottish grounds,’ he commented. ‘And I would adore seeing you in proper Scottish attire,’ he teased. ‘Well-shagged Scotsman,’ he rolled over John to kiss him. ‘I imagine you’ll have all the leisure to do that tomorrow,’ he added bumping his nose against John’s.


	8. Blue and Golden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I didn't have access to the Internet this last week.  
Back on track now. Enjoy =)  
And please leave comments?

‘Harry!’ Clara called from their bedroom to the bathroom where her future wife was brushing her teeth. She walked to her and handed her still ringing phone.

’Here. It’s John. I think we are going to the market today,’ she added a bright smile on her face as she gestured towards the sun clearly shining through the window.

Harry smiled giving Clara a toothpastey kiss on the cheek. "Mmm thank you Claire Bear. Glad it's cleared up and won't be too cold for Rosie to be out. Kate and Irene are meeting us there, right?" She juggled the phone trying to wrangle her thick curls into some semblance of order.

"Johnny! You and Rosie are meeting us at the market, right? It's outdoor so of course Sultan can come along."

"As if we could convince her to leave him behind,” he chuckled. “Yes, we're meeting you there. Listen, you didn't mention anything to Clara about Rosie needing a new pushchair or anything, did you?"

Mouth full of hair ties and bobby pins she shook her head. "Mmm mmm nope. Why?"

"Oh, just because what I'm sure is a ridiculously overpriced pushchair arrived about an hour ago. Complete with a spot for Sultan to sit and big enough for Rosie to grow into a bit." She imagined John shaking his head.

"Papa go?" Rosie chimed in.

"No, just us. Papa has to work on a case."

‘Morning John! Morning Rosie!’ Clara greeted them loudly, all the while buttoning her shirt.

‘The Case of the Origins of the Mysterious Pushchair,’ Sherlock derided before the sound of a kiss sounded through Harry’s phone. ‘I will see you later. Text me. Have a nice day. I’ll miss you both,’ the baritone of Sherlock’s voice echoed, once again accompanied with the sound of a kiss.

‘Who would have thought that Sherlock was such a big sob,’ Clara giggled. ‘Morning Sherlock,’ she called through the speaker, receiving a humming noise of acknowledgment. ‘Still not a morning person, apparently,’ she commented.

John chuckled. "Yeah, well, when a case calls or it's the pile of cold cases Greg left a while back he's not the most talkative." He smiled listening to Clara's chatter. It was good to hear her in such good spirits now that everything had been cleared up.

‘Oh yes, John, I’ve heard about that trait of his. Listen, let’s meet at Camden Tube station in… about an hour? 45 minutes?’ Harry frowned at her. ‘Less? I would have thought… Never mind. Half an hour, Harry’s shooting daggers at me implying that she’s taking too long in the bathroom or something,’ she chuckled, passing her arms around Harry’s waist and brushing her lips against her nape.

"Impossible to be irritated with you when you're doing that you know..." Harry grumbled half-heartedly. "Half hour is PLENTY. I want more time with my niece and Sultan. The shopping..." she shrugged.

"Half hour it is. Say bye bye to Papa, Rosie. We'll be home later."

‘I’ll bet Rosie was pouting,’ Clara chuckled. ‘So will I because the shopping is  _ actually _ important, too, love. Wedding, remember? Now be a good girl and hurry a little. We do need 20 minutes or so in a cab to get there. Now with the traffic… better not risk it,’ she gave a soft kiss on her shoulder, before heading back to their bedroom.

Harry smiled. "I'm only enduring shopping for you. I really don't like it. Watsons hate shopping."

The cold air of December greeted the two women as they exited the taxi they had ordered to get them to Camden town, a bright place with many colours and a myriad of people walking in the streets, bracing the low temperatures and snow trudged on the ground as they went looking for a nice time outside and making the most of what most of them had sworn would be a day to stay warm inside their homes.

Christmas had come and gone but the lights were still up as were the decorations in the shops, pubs and restaurants, adding to the explosion of colours and information permeating every lamppost and every building.

Arms locked together, Harry and Clara walked alongside one another, enjoying the warmth each of them gave out and the sight of so many people gathered, regardless of their differences or the period of the year. Although the crowds had thinned since the 24th December, the shops didn’t seem to show any sign of emptiness and neither did the pubs and restaurants whose opening hours had lengthened to accommodate more patrons.

Hot chocolate in hand, the two women huddled together while waiting for John and Rosie to arrive; and soon a large smile broke on each of their faces as they saw the figure of John pushing Rosie in the new pushchair that had arrived earlier in the morning. They waved at them.

Still sulking a bit that Sherlock hadn't come along Rosie smiled waving to Harry and Clara. "I gots new stroller!"

‘I can see that, yeah!’ Clara commented, kneeling to embrace the little girl after she'd greeted John with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘I can see you cultivate the insubordination trait,’ she chuckled. ‘What would Sherlock say if he heard you use an American word?’

John smiled scratching Sultan's ears. "Well they're learning words in just about every language and they watch children's shows in several languages. She probably picked it up from there."

‘That makes sense. It is a great one,’ she gestured to the pushchair. ‘Wonder where it came from. Well rested enough for the market, I hope?’

Wiggling excitedly on his seat behind and slightly above Rosie with his lead clipped to the handle Sultan barked excitedly with his nose in the air twitching. Grinning up at him Rosie giggled. "Silly puppy!"

John shrugged. "Don't know. We got the delivery first thing this morning. It's light weight, easy to fold, easy to steer with one hand, practically drives itself. Might've been a gift from Mycroft."

‘Except that Mycroft would have let you know he did, wouldn’t he? Well, as long as it was not a mistake…’

‘I see you’ve received the pushchair I ordered for you,’ commented a voice behind them.

Kate smiled warmly. "We wanted to get Rosie and Sultan a bit of something for Christmas. Since things went so well last night..."

Rosie smiled waving to Kate and Irene. "Hi! We goes shoppins!"

"Of course we are, Rosie. Your aunties need your help getting some very important things," Kate added returning Rosie's wave.

‘That we do,’ Clara agreed. ‘Come with us?’ she continued, lacing her fingers with Harry’s.

‘Isn’t it best to leave the decision to John?’ Irene chimed in, remembering the discussion they had as they exchanged goodbyes the previous evening at the restaurant.

"It's very nice and obviously Rosie and Sultan approve. Thank you. The fresh air will be good for her. And I'm sure she'll have fun."

‘Of course, she will,’ Clara replied.

Kneeling in front of Rosie he secured her hood. "Remember what I said earlier?"

Nodding she wiggled her mitten covered hands. "No touchins stuffs. Look wif eyes, not fingers." Grinning he kissed her cheek. "Exactly. Good job."

They started walking, heading to the stalls on the other side of Camden Town, Harry and Clara hand in hand after they’d finished their hot chocolate, Irene’s arm locked in Kate’s while holding a cup of hot cider, John and Rosie at the front, Rosie babbling away and looking joyously at everything.

‘Must be quite a change for you, all these people,’ Clara engaged Irene.

‘It is, yes,’ she agreed. ‘However I could not resist the chance of meeting you all and – ‘ she interrupted herself as Kate elbowed her slightly. ‘I couldn’t let you assume the pushchair had come from anyone else than Kate and I. Since you talked of going to the market today, I assumed you would choose this one so, here we are. It seems to be only Watsons,’ she commented.

John nodded. "It's very nice and these two certainly seem to like it. We appreciate it. Very much. It's very easy to move, which my shoulder appreciates. Very much."

Harry sighed giving John a look. "And exactly when are you going to look into having surgery on it again? I'm sure you know surgeons. And I know Sherlock would help you with rehab and taking care of Rosie while you heal up."

"And for once, you agree with Sherlock on something," John grumbled. "I'm starting the process, all right."

‘No need for you two to squabble,’ Clara interjected, trying to soothe Harry. ‘Although for the record, I’m certain Sherlock would appreciate you having you healed completely.’

‘Yes. I thought a soldier never gave up,’ Irene mused. ‘But evidently you don’t,’ she continued, lips pinched as she knew that John was fibbing.

Kate squeezed Irene's hand lightly in warning. Some things were best left alone.

The two Watsons stared at each other for a long moment before turning on their heels and heading in opposite directions.

"Oh dear..." Kate sighed. "I suppose they need a bit of time to cool off...."

‘But hopefully not too long,’ Irene commented.

John stormed through the market barely seeing anything until a delighted squeal from Rosie caught his attention. Pausing for a moment he watched as she reached up to gently touch a bit of sheer cloth with golden bees stitched on it and the fringe decorated with tiny crystals and delicate chiming bells. "Rosie, sweetheart, don't touch..."

Approaching slowly from behind them, Clara softly cleared her throat.

‘John… You know Harry didn’t  _ want _ to hurt your feelings. That’s… just how she is. She wants the best for her baby brother, you  _ know _ that. She worries about you,’ she tried pleading.

Giving Clara's hand a slight squeeze he nodded. "I know. Bit of a sore subject and she knows it."

‘This is a really beautiful fabric and design you’ve found there, Rosie,’ she continued, seemingly letting the subject drop, so John could work through it.

Rosie smiled. "Papa love bees! It preddy. For him birfday."

John smiled slightly at Rosie. "Yes, Papa loves bees. And it's very pretty. But you can't touch." ‘I agree. Very pretty. Very… Sherlock would like that, yes. Listen to your Daddy, Rosie. I’m sure it’s very expensive, too.’

"Out of our range," John shrugged slightly. "I'm sure we can find something else with bees for Papa."

It was hard not to let on how much he wanted to get it for Sherlock or think of how it would glow wrapped over marble pale skin.

Kate nudged Irene slightly noting the faraway look in John's eyes.

‘Out of  _ yours _ , maybe,’ Irene whispered next to John, gesturing for the vendor to come over.

Clara turned around, her eyebrows rising up her hairline. ‘Is she...?’

Harry grunted, arms crossed and glaring at Irene. If that woman took this thing from John she'd murder her.

Kate smiled laying her hand on John's arm gently. "Let us. Please, John. Not from us, of course. The look on your face tells me you know how much Sherlock would love it and how much it would mean for you to give it to him. Please."

John watched as Irene handed over a glossy black credit card with a gleaming black diamond chip and elegant gold lettering. Maybe it was time to let things go. A bit.

‘She did…’ Clara commented eloquently as Irene turned to give a discreet smile to John. She turned to Harry. ‘Tell me you’re seeing the same thing I am?’ she whispered when Irene approached with the package and placed it into John’s hands with a nod.

‘Peace offering. Accept it?’

Harry watched intently one eyebrow slightly raised. She'd hold out on forgiving or forgetting until she knew John was all right.

John sighed with a slight nod. He'd do this for Harry and Clara. And maybe for himself too. "Thank you. He'll love it."

Looking up at the adults who were oddly tense Rosie reached for the package. "Present for Papa."

Neither Irene nor Kate could help the smile spreading on their faces.

‘Leave it to a child to focus on what is really important,’ Clara commented proudly. ‘Let her be that way for the longest time possible.’

‘I disagree. To a certain extent. A girl has to know that the world is… inherently bad and should protect herself. When she is old enough to do so, obviously,’ she amended as Kate threw her a look. ‘Until then, she should be protected by her family,’ she added. ‘Women are the best candidates to protect other women,’ she continued before John could speak.

‘What are you saying? Are you saying that John and Sherlock can’t protect her adequately because they’re male?!’

‘No, no,’ she protested, shaking her head vehemently. Of course they can. There are certain… aspects of being a woman and the challenges we must face that they can’t quite grasp, no matter how loving and well-meaning they are. I’m sure Harry would agree.’

Harry nodded. "Oh you can be bloody sure that as soon as she's old enough my niece will know how to land a shin kick that would take down an elephant. If she's going to learn, might as well learn from one of the best."

John chuckled stroking Rosie's curls now that she'd pushed her hood off to see better. "I think my shins still have bruises from you practicing on me. Although some of my rugby moves put us on a bit more even playing field." Looking down at Rosie he nodded. "Of course she'll know and  _ need _ to know how to take care of herself. We don't want her to know just how cruel the world can be. Yet. Not just yet. The more ways she knows of protecting herself, the better. I'm sure Mycroft will see to it that Ant teaches Rosie everything she knows."

Kate glanced up at Irene. "John, if you'd let us, we'd be happy to help as well. Both of us are well-versed in several methods of self-defence as well as a number of martial arts disciplines. If it's all right with you and Sherlock, of course."

Irene’s eyes lit up at Kate’s words, happy that she’d offered to help with Rosie’s  _ future  _ education on self-defence: she was aware that John was still highly unlikely to agree to anything she offered. She had  _ just  _ given him a peace offering to bury the hatchet between them. She would not admit it out loud, but she did like the little child – as well as her parents, regardless of their past disagreement which essentially stemmed from miscommunication between all three of them and she really hoped to atone for what had happened and become part of their lives. She did not say anything for fear that John would refuse but was no less expectant on a positive answer from him.

Clara observed the easy banter between Harry and her brother and smiled, glad that they had not stayed mad at each other for long, blessed by the intervention of Rosie’s candid happiness.

She, just like Irene and Kate, was curious to know John’s reaction, although probably not as expectant as them. She knew that there was bad blood between them, but Irene’s repentance seemed genuine, and with Kate’s support it would be unlikely that she’d make a grave mistake as she’d apparently done in the past.

Taking a deep breath and watching Rosie hold the package up to Sultan for a sniff John smiled slightly. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her safe. And there was no question Sherlock would do the same. They wouldn't always be there to keep her safe. The world was a dangerous place.

"I appreciate having more people willing, ready, and able to help us, help Rosie. I'll talk to Sherlock. He'll see the reasoning. Probably." He smiled a bit. "By the time we have an answer, she'll be old enough to need the lessons. Knowing our luck, she'll definitely want it too."

It made sense that Irene would know how to keep herself safe given her line of work.

Irene let out a small, barely audible sigh of relief and a pleased smile spread on her face. She clutched Kate’s arm and squeezed it, communicating her thanks to her wife for asking John.

‘Thank you, John, for trusting us,  _ me _ , enough to consider it. In a few years, if Sherlock refuses I help with this education, will you please insist on Kate’s behalf? She would be strongly affected not to be allowed to help,’ she pleaded. ‘Yes, you would, darling,’ she whispered, countering Kate’s silent disagreement. ‘Remember, I know you.’

"I'll talk to Sherlock about it. You have my word. We'll talk it over. Probably not going to have an answer any time soon. It'll take him a while to think about it from every angle. But I think he'll come around to the idea being a good one. Eventually.”

‘Thank you, John. It really means a lot,’ she appreciated, exhibiting serene satisfaction.

“We're lucky to have so many people who want to be in Rosie's life and be role models for her.”

‘And Rosie would have strong female figures in her life, in addition to the both of us, Sherlock’s mother, Molly and Mrs Hudson,’ Clara added thoughtfully.

‘You forgot to mention the female members of the Royal Family,’ Irene teased. ‘I doubt they wouldn’t be involved, one way or another. Mycroft is her uncle, after all,’ she added tongue-in-cheek.

"And she has yet to meet her great-great aunt who's quite a role model herself." Harry grinned. "Aunt Adelaide's a tough old bird. Johnny and I have always been her favourites since we take after her the most."

They resumed strolling in the streets, browsing the stalls and their bright, interesting displays, passing vendors and groups of people chatting away animatedly, huddled together against the cold morning of late December.

The rush of the days leading to Christmas had come and gone; nevertheless a large number of visitors roamed the streets of Camden, taking their time to peruse items, considering presents for future occasions.

Irene softly nudged Kate, eyes fixed on an item that she was certain would interest Clara and Harry, namely blue glassware. Neither woman had spotted it and continued walking hand in hand at a slow pace. With any chance, another object or two would be relevant to their interest.

‘This shop seems interesting. New.’

Kate smiled. "Oh they're beautiful! That's Clara's favourite colour, that lovely dark blue. Not really navy. More a midnight blue. We should get the set for them." She cocked her head in thought. "If I remember right, the Watson tartan has quite a bit of blue in it. That exact blue. Clara's favourite colour and something to tie to Harry's family too. Perfect." She smiled brightly kissing Irene's cheek.

‘I’m glad you think so. Should we go in, then?’ she gestured towards the shop. ‘We’ll catch up with them later on. It’s not as if it’ll take us long to, is it?’

John trailed along simply happy that Harry was so happy and enjoying herself. It had been too long since he'd seen her this happy. He smiled down at Rosie who held Sherlock's present securely, refusing to put it underneath her seat for storage. He'd given up the battle of the hood. Every time he pulled it up, it would be back down in seconds so she could see everything. "Warm enough, sweetheart?" He reached down to stroke her pink cheek.

"Yup. We's warm." She smiled up at him patting Sultan who was snugly dressed in a little jacket that nearly matched Rosie's.

Clara’s eyes wandered everywhere, taking in everything she could, absorbing the vibrant energy from the market, Harry at her side, holding her hand. They had spent four years apart due to Harry’s drinking problem and their ensuing divorce but had got back together shortly after John’s grave mistake. His marrying had jolted her out of her indecision and given her stauncher resolution to keep to the promise of not drinking and attend therapy she’d given her. Clara reflected that John should be thanked for bringing sense into Harry’s head even if unwittingly but she quickly thought better of it: from what Harry had told her, his marriage to Mary had been a failure laden with emotional abuse. It would be unwise to twist the knife in the still tender wound, especially as he and Sherlock, who had apparently become estranged for some time after the marriage ended and Mary died, had only just admitted to being in a romantic relationship and raising Rosie together. They were happy.

She turned to look at the woman she’d soon call her wife. Her long golden hair cascading on her shoulders caught the sunbeams, producing a sort of halo around her.

‘Earrings. We should get you earrings for the wedding,’ she declared, a smile on her face.

Harry smiled at Clara nudging her cheek with a cold nose. "Earrings? Whatever for? You know I don't really like wearing them all that much. But anything to make you happy."

Glancing back at John she smiled. "I'm glad he came along. And brought Rosie and Sultan. I really want to visit as much as possible. Johnny and I lost a lot of years and I know you want to be as involved in Rosie's life as I do."

‘I’m happy you’re happy, love,’ Clara replied squeezing her hand. ‘Of course I’m glad he’s come along, too. It was not much of a given last night, what with …well. The drama. But they came and we can enjoy their presence. Because you’re right, I really want to be involved in Rosie’s life, especially if it makes you happy.’

Kate smiled brightly carrying the box with the glassware carefully even though the delicate items were well wrapped and padded. "Just something simple, Harry. Nothing too large or heavy. A simple stud or drop. Nothing that would be heavy and uncomfortable. Makes it rather pointless if you hate wearing it."

Clara smiled at Kate, happy that she’d take her role as bridesmaid so much at heart and helped her be happy. ‘Thank you, Kate. She’s right, you know, love. I’m definitely not looking to have you wear uncomfortable and heavy things on our wedding day.’

‘And whatever you’re wearing, she’ll be looking forward for you  _ not _ to be wearing it,’ Irene chimed in, her voice light and happy. Clara rolled her eyes at Irene’s comment.

‘Well it’s hardly a secret,’ she replied good-heartedly. ‘You know I adore every piece of you, pretty, small earrings would enhance everything,’ she stated, dreamy-eyed as they continued walking in silence. The hustle-bustle around them provided all the sensory input to counterbalance that.

‘What more to have the two of you get all… happy on your wedding night than lingerie?’ Irene proposed, her voice lowered so Rosie would not hear. She really wasn’t concerned about John overhearing them – he was a grown-up who had had his fair share of encounters with women; the topic must have been talked about and visited. ‘Blue, obviously.’

John smiled rolling his eyes and shaking his head watching the four women cluster together and giggle, exchanging ideas and possibilities and suggestions for lingerie. Well there was certainly another plus to life with Sherlock. Sherlock was innately sexy. And there was none of the fuss over putting something 'sexy' on just for it to be taken off within minutes.

Of course he had an appreciation for the time and effort any woman he'd been with had put into looking 'sexy' and investing in lingerie. But there definitely was something to be said for Sherlock's tendency to wander about the flat in thin, faded old t shirts, pyjama pants that had stretched to the point of barely clinging to his hips and a dressing gown. Or just a sheet. Or nothing. No fuss.

He really didn't want to think about his sister in such things, much less Rosie. Sink it. Those thoughts were definitely of the 'sink it’ variety. God bless Ella and that particular tip.

Focusing on Rosie he got a juice box and a sandwich bag of shortbread cookies that Mrs. Hudson has insisted Rosie have for a snack from the compartment under her seat. Along with a pouch of banana and apple compote and a few carrot sticks to share with Sultan. "Want to get out for a bit so you can give Sultan a drink and a snack?"

Curls bobbing she nodded. "Yes, pease. Out." The moment her feet were on the ground she made a beeline for Harry and Clara for hugs. Recognizing Kate and Irene she paused only briefly before offering hugs to them too. Ignoring the fact that her expensive trousers would be stained from the ground, Kate knelt to accept Rosie's hug. "It's nice to see you again, Rosie. And Sultan too. You picked a very nice present for your Papa's birthday. It's coming up very soon, isn't it?"

‘On the sixth,’ Irene replied casually, even if the question had not been directed at her. ‘Sherlock will appreciate the present you’ve chosen. You clearly know that he likes small things that can be dangerous if in danger but also give off sweet produce. You’re clever beyond your years,’ she commented, her tone warm. ‘And just as observant as him,’ she added more seriously, eyes narrowing slightly. ‘A woman must always rely on her wits.’

Clara loudly cleared her throat, a Watson trait that was spreading. ‘Irene…’

‘But today is not appropriate to tell you any of that,’ she amended but Clara cleared her throat once more, joined by Harry just as Kate was turning around to send her a disapproving glare.

‘What…? Oh, yes. I’m very pleased to see you again, Rosie.’ As she extended her hand she realised she was being too… formal and most likely too cold and that neither would do. She tugged on the end of her dress and crouched in front of Rosie, opening her arms to her.

Rosie smiled brightly, never one to turn down giving hugs. Besides, the pretty lady was very nice.  _ She has pretty hair like Papa, but different _ . Even though she had her friend with her she seemed like she didn't have many other friends. Those were the people who needed friends most. That's what Daddy always told her. She hugged Irene warmly patting her cheek with a smile. "Very preddy lady."

John couldn't help but smile. He still didn't like Irene much but at least she was trying. He'd give her credit for that. Even better was that Rosie was being very kind to Irene and Kate. She seemed fascinated by Irene. Likely the passing resemblance to Sherlock.

Harry watched intently. She still didn't trust Irene a hundred percent. She'd said a few things that weren't quite appropriate for Rosie's ears but at least it was certain she'd be keeping her claws out of Sherlock.

‘I kn… Thank you, Rosie. You’re very pretty yourself and I know you will grow up to be at least as strikingly beautiful as your Papa.’ Kate threw her a mock-jealous look. ‘From an objective point of view anyone would say he is, darling. I’d probably make a pass at him were I not otherwise engaged,’ she teased. ‘I  _ am _ teasing, John.’

‘Sorry for laughing, but I cannot resist finding it somewhat amusing that  _ you _ ’d get a jealous, scowling face, John. By all rights it  _ should _ be Kate, but… Well, here we are,’ Clara chuckled, shaking her head.

John gave a slight shrug trying not to smile at the slight shift in Harry's posture that meant she was about five seconds from going in to full on protective big sister mode.

"Old habits die hard, Irene. And I don't think the whole thing went over that well with Kate either. Learn where the line is, Irene. And stop not just crossing it, but obliterating it."

Irene looked properly chastised by the look Harry and John threw her way, the former looking all but ready to pounce.

‘I know. Sorry. I’ll try harder,’ she promised.

Kate sighed smiling slightly as she stroked Sultan's ears. "I think we could all do with a few minutes to sit down and have a bit of something to eat while we compare what we've found so far and see what else we're looking for."

Rosie smiled. "Daddy, we gets snack? Pease?! Bizzycuts an' hot chocwate?"

John chuckled shaking his head.

"We'll see what we can find that's a bit healthier than biscuits and hot chocolate. Maybe some fruit with yogurt." Making a face that was almost an exact match for Sherlock's when he disliked something she shook her head. "Bleh! No."

‘You should listen to your Daddy, Rosie,’ Clara chimed in, amusement colouring her tone. ‘I think I’ve seen that expression before. Where was it…?’ she mused.

‘On Sherlock’s own face, I bet.’

‘Yes, you’re right, Irene. Children can mimic others’ reactions so well,’ she agreed as their group continued walking, this time in search of a place to sit down and eat as Kate had suggested. ‘There’s a pizza restaurant, let’s go there,’ Clara suggested as she saw the blue panels at the front. ‘I’m sure we can ask for a yogurt as dessert. Rosie’ll have a proper lunch and proper dessert.’ she bribed.

‘Besides, fruit seems to be readily available, here,’ Irene continued. ‘Exotic fruits, from the look of it,’ she added to make it all the more appealing to Rosie in an attempt she hoped successful. Harry was still eyeing her suspiciously but that could hardly be helped. She reflected that if she were to focus her attention on Rosie’s needs the tension between her and the Watsons would… start mending.

Kate smiled looking at the menu board.

"Oh, ham and melon. A favourite of mine. You can share, Rosie. It's very good."

Harry looked over the menu keeping between John, Rosie, and Irene. "What about the Rustica? Seems a bit like something Mum'd make for us from leftovers."

John nodded. "Sounds pretty good. Rosie'll try about anything."

‘It seems we all agree on going there,’ Clara concluded, a wide smile on her face. ‘Though I doubt it’ll be as good at Angelo’s of course,’ she added lowering her voice as they entered the restaurant.

‘I’ll bear in mind that Rosie would try anything – and may I just point out how commendable this is in one so young? From what I understand, children that age have already formed strong dislikes and tend to gravitate towards the same sort of meals. Sherlock and you are clearly doing a spectacular job of raising her,’ Irene praised, walking to a booth at the back of the restaurant, deceptively small from the outside.

‘You’re not being subtle at all, Irene,’ Clara teased in a whisper. ‘Don’t overdo it,’ she advised. ‘Genuine interest, no matter how small, is to my mind, worth a lot more than anything that can be perceived as… exaggerated and false,’ she continued.

‘Thank you for your advice,’ she replied in a smile, her voice low as she nodded.

Rosie looked around with wide eyes taking in the new place.

"Yummy." She nodded to Sultan who was eagerly wiggling with his nose in the air.

John chuckled. "Does smell pretty good, doesn't it. I'm sure we can get you a small cheese pizza that you can have all to yourself. And share bites of mine."

She nodded gently holding on to Sultan's ear for a bit of comfort in a new environment. "Sultan no eat. Might get sick."

John stroked her hair. "That's right. But he can have a few bits of good things. Just a little."

Harry kept her eye on Irene slowly relaxing her posture. "Vegetables are good for growing girls and growing puppies."

‘The décor is really nice,’ Clara remarked. ‘And the reputation of the place is a rather good one, too. Though not as good as Angelo’s,’ she added looking at John.

‘Yes, an interesting place to suggest. Here, I mean.’

‘I thought it could be a nice place for you two to start over. Without all the drama that happened last night.’

‘I think it is,’ Irene concurred as a waiter approached and promptly took their orders, leaving after assuring them that it was a regular occurrence to have toddlers as patrons and a healthy menu had been tailored for them. A collective sigh of relief and appreciation ran through the adults and more particularly John who knew the importance of eating properly and did not want his daughter to run on inappropriate amounts of sugary fat – or develop bad eating habits. Although he had greatly improved, Sherlock was still not what passed as a model when it came to food and eating habits.

Soon enough, their orders arrived and as their table fell under the assault of their different smells, stomachs grumbled all together putting their discussion to a stop for a moment.

John smiled watching Rosie eye her plate a bit suspiciously. It wasn't Angelo’s and obviously nothing could compare with that.

"What's the rule?"

Huffing she poked at her food. "Tree bites."

Nodding he kissed the top of her head. "Three bites before you can decide you don't like it. Papa will be so proud you tried something new."

Harry smiled. "Rosie, there's an excellent bakery nearby that has amazing bread and butter pudding and ice cream. You eat your lunch and we'll share some. Deal?"

Rosie considered the offer for a long moment. Nana Hudson sometimes made bread and butter pudding. It was a favourite treat on rainy, cold days and one that Papa could never turn down. Nodding she took a bite of her lunch.

"Otay. We shares."

Irene took her phone out, and shook her head at Kate who was about to tell her off.

‘I think John and Sherlock would enjoy having pictures or videos of their little girl eating so well. Especially somewhere that is not her usual restaurant. I imagine she is partial to Angelo’s?’ she enquired.

John smiled at Rosie who was making it clear she was not happy that it wasn't Angelo's food.

"Yeah, she's a bit partial to it. I'm certain she goes with Sherlock on their wanders around the city when I'm at the clinic. She's not a picky eater, but some things just can't be duplicated."

Clara nodded, appreciating the truth in John’s statement. ‘I would not be surprised if she made it her goal as years go by. One of her fathers is Sherlock, after all. Cooking, chemistry… experiments,’ she laughed, mussing Rosie’s hair. ‘Sorry, sorry, I won’t distract her,’ she apologised, remembering her lukewarm enthusiasm over the plate in front of her.

‘I’m sure she would already have tried if her Dad let her,’ Irene interjected. ‘To cook, I mean. Not necessarily to experiment to replicate anything,’ she amended.

‘She’d probably have tons of fun baking,’ Clara asserted. ‘I think your housek – sorry, landlady – bakes a lot, doesn’t she? Rosie could be her assistant.’

John smiled. "Rosie enjoys 'helping' Mrs. Hudson when she's on a baking spree. Sherlock's a fair hand in the kitchen. When he wants to be. There's more chemical reaction in baking so he does a bit more of that on occasion. I enjoy cooking and try to have a few meals in the freezer for when I'm working long hours at the clinic."

Rosie sighed dramatically taking a few bites of her lunch. It wasn't terrible. The thing with peas was terrible. But that didn't mean she had to enjoy it. Aunt Harry's promise of dessert was tempting so she'd eat just to get that.

Kate smiled leaning into Irene. "She sounds, and looks, just like Sherlock. Especially when she's trying to make her point known."

‘And she has a sweet tooth, just as Sherlock. I know it could be merely mimicking but – well, you know what I think,’ she whispered back. ‘Isn’t it nice to have room in your freezer for edible food,’ she continued, her tone light and gently teasing. ‘That’s one of the points of a relationship after all, isn’t it? Making room for the other,’ she added with a wink. ‘Or as it happens, brides,’ she continued addressing Harry and Clara.

Harry grinned with a shrug, her arm casually around Clara's shoulders. "Well I didn't think I'd ever settle down. Then I met Clara. Then she gave me a second chance."

She wisely kept her mouth shut regarding John and his marriage. The second one, to the right person, would be much better. And it would be in the capable hands of Aunt Adelaide to give things the needed push in the right direction.

Kate smiled pleased to see Clara so happy. "I'm glad you two got it all sorted out. And that all our paths ended up crossing. It really is a small world."

Taking advantage of the adults talking, Rosie slipped Sultan bits of her lunch. Aside from being her best friend he was good at eating icky things.

‘It is a small world, indeed,’ Irene acquiesced, her tone less enthusiastic and more detached as her mood had somewhat been dampened by Kate’s remark. It had never been a secret between them and both of them were grown women, mature enough to know that they’d never been each other’s first. Even as she was very much aware of it, Irene could not help but feel a stab of jealousy which she attempted to conceal by speeding their discussion along.

‘And one that needs more blue in it. So, let’s recap,’ she exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, so very unlike her usual dignified manner. ‘What have we got and what more do we need to get?’

"Rosamund Mary Watson Holmes what do you think you're doing?" John looked at Rosie who blinked up at him innocently.

"Free bites Daddy. Had free bites. I shares wif Sultan. Good foods. Good for puppy." She nodded emphatically curls bobbing. Logic. Simple logic. She'd had her few bites, she'd been told the food was healthy, so why not share?

Trying not to laugh at her Sherlock-like line of thinking John took a cleaning wipe from Rosie's bag of things, cleaning her hands.

"Yes, it was very good food and you had your three bites. But I wanted you to try and eat more, not share it with Sultan even though it is good food that probably won't upset his tummy."

Kate laughed softly lightly resting her hand on Irene's knee under the table. A gentle reminder that the past was in the past. "Well I think we have old and blue. We need new and borrowed."

Clara shook her head, a benevolent smile on her face. ‘It seems that you might be raising a little cheeky one,’ she commented. ‘We do, yes,’ she confirmed Kate’s statement. Sensing that Irene wanted to stay on the topic of Harry and her wedding, she continued ‘I rather liked the idea you expressed earlier. You know. Regarding what we could get that would be new and could very well be blue as well.’

Irene nodded, thankful for Kate’s hand on her knee and the reassurance it brought her. She knew that she was being unreasonable  _ You should never let your heart rule your head _ , Sherlock had once told her. It appears he was right, as he was in a lot of things – but evidently was not good at seeing what was in front of him. ‘I propose we look into this this afternoon. I imagine the Holmes-Watson family – or was it Watson-Holmes, John? – would appreciate spending time together.’

John shrugged trying to keep a wiggling toddler still while he cleaned her hands and face. "We haven't settled on what order the names are going in. And we'll come along for a bit longer. We'll have to get her home in time for a n-a-p."

Rosie huffed looking up at him. "No. No nap. Naps boring. No nap."

John sighed deciding not to argue the point. "Not right now, no. No nap right now. We still have to help shop for things for Aunt Harry and Aunt Clara's wedding. Then later we'll go home and show Papa all the nice things we got. And he has something special too, doesn't he?"

Eyes lighting up she nodded. "Yeah! Pretty bees for Papa. We shops."

Scrambling out of the booster seat at the table she kissed Sultan's head trying to 'help' him back to his perch on the stroller. "Come on! The game has a foot!"

Harry snickered. "She may be my niece and I may be a bit biased, but she's the most adorable kid ever."

‘How could she not be adorable?’ Clara wondered. ‘It’s a family trait in Watsons,’ she smiled, passing her arm behind Harry’s shoulders. ‘But I’m sure that in this instance her Papa would not let her adorable-ness blind him and miss the opportunity to teach her the correct expression,’ she laughed.

Harry smiled. "Adorableness, especially in pint sizes, is an old Watson family trait. Wait until you meet Aunt Adelaide. She's tiny, but adorable. And incredibly strong-willed."

Kate laughed softly pressing a light kiss to Irene's cheek. "I'm yours now and forever. No reason to be jealous."

‘I know, I know,’ she replied bending her head to hide her blushing cheeks. ‘I’m not sure what came over me,’ she whispered before continuing louder, addressing John. ‘You will come with us to find items that can be borrowed,’ she asked doubt in her voice. ‘Are these items not supposed to come from family members and friends?’

Kate smiled. "Maybe seeing other happy couples is getting to you a bit my dear," she teased gently.

Wiggling in her seat and holding on to the package that held Sherlock's bee cloth in it Rosie looked up at John wrinkling her nose with a giggle as Sultan leaned down to lick her face. "We goes now Daddy. Gots shoppins to do."

John chuckled trying to avoid puppy kisses as he zipped Rosie's coat.

"Yes, we do. And we'll see if we can't find another birthday present or two for Papa while we're at it."

Rosie looked up at Irene with a firm nod. "We goes. Findins stuff's a game. The game's got a foot. Right?" She tipped her head back to get a better view of John who nodded with a smile. "Yes, we're going."

Clara smiled, pleased to note that John had agreed to prolong their time together, and shook her head, a soft chuckle in her voice. ‘If you don’t correct her I’m sure that at some point the game will have grown a hand, or an arm or a leg…’

John chuckled making sure Rosie and Sultan were settled. "Maybe. She seems to have settled on her version of the phrase. Who knows when she'll change it. Language is a tricky thing."

Pressed against Kate, Irene looked approvingly at John while Harry was paying for their lunch and Clara putting her coat back on. ‘The more, the merrier. The more ideas for what we could get the two lovebirds’ wedding, as well.’

Kate smiled looking up at Irene. "The more we're around her, the more charmed I am by her. What else do we need? I think we have blue definitely covered. New might be a little more difficult here."

‘Indeed. We’ve already established that we would need to go elsewhere for getting them ‘something new’. We should set onto acquiring items for the other category,’ she continued standing up to get ready to go outside as Kate did the same since everyone else had donned their coats. ‘For which I had an idea I’d like to submit. I know it’s unconventional but wouldn’t it be neat that you ladies borrow something from your best man and maid of honour?’

Harry smiled. "Oh, how clever! I like that. That's very creative. And then you can always 'gift' it to us later. Or we'll simply 'forget' to give it back and you'll 'forget' to ask for it."

"Someone may have to point me in the right direction. I'm drawing a bit of a blank." He smiled watching Rosie as she studied the people around them.

‘I promise not to tell Sherlock,’ Clara teased him. ‘In fairness, would you mind being more explicit? John is not the only one to being at a loss there.’

‘It is a shame that Sherlock’s... cleverness has not rubbed off on you, John,’ she replied before tutting. ‘Ah, well, I suppose it can’t be helped then. I was suggesting we get items that anyone could realistically use in their personal homes so that the brides could borrow from us.’

‘There’s no need to sound patronising, Irene,’ Clara reprimanded her. ‘It is clearer. Do you know what we could use? A revolving cake stand,’ she continued with passion. ‘Harry and I share a love for baking and receiving people.’

‘An item I’m sure Sherlock and John would part with easily, if only to avoid Mycroft from stealing the results of their baking experiments.’

‘Oh, Sherlock has a sweet tooth, hasn’t he?’

‘Or he enjoys torturing his brother and bakes cakes for that sole purpose. In that case, why join, John?’ Irene pursued a smirk on her face.

John resisted the urge to snap at Irene busying himself with making sure Rosie and Sultan weren't able to scramble away in search of adventure. He gave a slight shrug. "Well parenthood often means sleepless nights. Especially since she was sick over the holiday." Kneeling in front of Rosie he smiled. "Ready to help find more presents?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Get preddy presents."

Harry bristled at Irene's tone. Just when she thought she could maybe start at least trying to like her. She was going to try and keep her temper. "I'm not the best at baking but I can measure and stir like nobody's business. Clara's the one who knows all the good recipes. Although I do have a knack for the secret recipe for the Watson family scones."

Kate nudged Irene with a glare. "Irene, really?!"

‘What? What did I say?’ she questioned throwing her hands in the air. ‘I was attempting to joke over Mycroft’s penchant for cakes, hoping to bond with John. How is that so bad?’

Kate nodded. "I know, I know, but family can make fun of family. If someone else does it, well, it's just not tolerated. For example, I may tease you about being high maintenance but if anyone else did it, I'd be livid. They may all find Mycroft irritating but having someone else point it out doesn't go over well."

Irene opened her mouth to protest at the unfairness of it – she  _ had not _ meant for any of it to be taken badly at all and, were the situation reversed she would not be offended in the least. She might be protective of Kate but reasonably so. She wanted to make her reasoning clear to everyone, however one look from Kate told her to hold her tongue. She refused to hang her head in shame: it would be ridiculous to apologise for who she was, wouldn’t it?

‘I apologise,’ she told the assembly regardless, and took her phone out of her handbag. Her eyes widened as she looked at it as if she had received surprising news.

‘I’m going to have to go, I’m sorry. An important client has brought to my attention certain deeds that need to be dealt with,’ she declared in a detached, business-like tone of voice. ‘I expect to see you later and know that you are in extremely good hands with Kate here.’

She turned around to leave the group, her back straight and her shoulders visibly stiff.

No matter how hard she tried to fit in and bond with the Watsons, it only backfired and, aware that she would have eventually offended and angered John and Harry despite her efforts _not_ _to_, she decided it was better not to force them to endure her company.

Clara took Harry’s hand, not really surprised to see Irene leaving.

‘You are aware that there is no client and she only wants to remove herself so that she doesn’t upset either you or your brother?’ she whispered at Harry.

‘I could see you tried to keep your temper and I would congratulate you for it – but there is one problem: it has seeped through your tone, my love. I’m not accusing you of anything,’ she hastened to say, aware of Harry’s sensitivity when it came to her shortcomings.

John made sure Rosie was settled before walking over to Irene. Smiling he held out his hand, not quite standing at parade rest. "Thank you for making time today. Rosie's very taken with you. I think you'll be a good influence on her when she's older. So long as you don't share quite everything about your work." He smiled slightly. "I'm all for her having strong female role models. We're putting a great deal of trust in you, and Kate, Harry, Clara, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock's mother. If your client can wait, you're welcome to stay. I think Rosie would like a bit more time with you. Harry...." He shrugged. "She holds a grudge but she'll get over it."

‘As much as I’ve enjoyed being in your company, this client simply cannot wait. I’m afraid I cannot stay,’ she declined John’s invitation as nicely as she could. ‘I’m honoured that you would like to spend a little bit more time with me,’ she thanked Rosie.

‘I expect I will see your party soon, and that you will have found everything blue and borrowed for your sister’s wedding,’ she added, a soft smile plastered on her lips before she gave her hand for John to shake.

John shook Irene's hand, holding it for a moment. "Harry's more than a bit overprotective. I know you know that. Just let her get her feathers settled and she'll be fine. Rosie's been enjoying your company. Why don't you stay?"

Irene let a small amount of unease show on her face as her smile turned into a small grimace. ‘I know,’ she replied. ‘Thank you. It seems to me you will all be better off without someone to rain on your parade. Besides, rain and feathers have never been a good mix,’ she joked feebly. ‘There is no reason to ruin a rather nice day, is there? Thank you again,’ she reiterated, ‘we will see each other soon enough,’ she added, inclining her head and letting go of John’s hand before turning around.

John smiled catching Rosie just as she was headed full speed to catch up with Irene. “Preddy lady no go.” She was in full-on pout mode, lower lip stuck out. Gots more shoppins to do.” She pressed a slightly crumbled biscuit into Irene’s hand. Nana Hudson’s biscuits almost always fixed nearly everything. “Bizzycut help lots.” She nodded. “Pease.” John chuckled softly. Rosie had a way of charming even the most reluctant of adults. Like Mycroft. 

Irene smiled at the little girl who so evidently wanted her to stay and glanced at John who, although he was keeping silent, clearly expected her to agree to Rosie’s demand request.

‘I will stay, young lady, but not for long, I’m afraid,’ she relented, but kept to herself that the reason she did was more along the lines of not upsetting anyone rather than the crumbled pieces of biscuit she’d put in her hand. 

John scooped Rosie up. “And it looks like you and I need to have a talk about you getting out on your own when no one knows you did it. You’re going to end up being an escape artist like Papa, aren’t you.” He sighed shaking his head with a smile. “No getting out without asking someone first. Not just any grownup either. Family.” Rosie nodded clearly thinking things over before smiling brightly at Irene. “Pretty lady fambwy too now.” She could see the friendship between Kate and Clara so that made Irene sort of like Aunt Harry. So that was that. Family. John huffed a laugh hugging her. “Let’s get you settled back in your chair with Sultan, ok.”

Irene was aware that everything was so simple through children’s eyes, she knew they did not encumber themselves with grudges or keeping score; and, while she definitely appreciated that - not to mention the fact that Rosie seemed to bring everyone on the same side regardless of any differences they might have - Irene could not help but fear for the little girl and the impact the disillusion and the complexity of the grown up world would have on her.

She decided in that moment to help her keep her innocence for as long as would be good for her.

“You stays wif us.” Rosie nodded having clearly decided Irene needed help and friendship. “You push me an’ Sultan? Pease.” She gave Irene her sweetest smile. The one that usually got her another biscuit even after she’d been told no more. John settled her in the seat making sure her coat was zipped and her mittens on. “You are not going to let up, are you?” He tapped her nose with a smile. “I don’t think it’s going to be a problem of you being prepared for the world so much as the world being prepared for you.” 

‘It’s fine,’ Irene replied, placing herself behind the pushchair. ‘It’s an excellent thing that she’s got such a strong personality. She is not going to be someone to be trifled with, in that way making the world a bit less dangerous for her,’ she commented. ‘No, safer,’ she corrected.

‘Rosie’s got you to stay, then?’ Clara asked, a large smile on her face, as they came back towards the other members of their group. She elbowed Harry to let her know that she might have to consider certain things from a child’s innocent perspective. 

Harry smiled looking a bit chastened. “I’m sorry. I’m terrible at jumping to the worst possible conclusion or way of looking at things or taking things. You’re more than welcome to stay. I know it’d mean a lot to Clara and Kate if you did. Not to mention Rosie. Who seems to have decided you’re part of us now and are staying.” She chuckled watching Rosie study Irene upside down.

“Preddy foofy hair.” She murmured with a smile. Hair was such a fascinating thing. So many colors, real and not so real, so many textures, curls and straight, thick and thin. It was so interesting to look at. Touching was even better.” Sultan gave Irene’s hand a sniff before pushing his head under her hand for a good scratch. If she was standing there she might as well do something useful. 

‘Thank you. Your hair is very pretty as well, and your father is absolutely right in keeping it to a medium-length so that it doesn’t prevent you from going on adventures,’ she replied.

‘Well done, darling,’ Clara said before kissing Harry.

‘Where do you go on adventures, Rosie?’ she asked, deciding that the conversation needed to be kept light in view of the previously heated mood.

She smiled. “Me an’ Papa goes to th’ park lots! An’ sometimes we go sees Uncle Greg or Uncle Mytoff or Aunt Molly. We gets nummy treats affer the park.” She blinked at John with a mischievous smile. “Shhhhh! It supposed be a secret.”

John snorted. “Yeah, it’s a secret. I won’t tell.” He ruffled her hair gently. “They go all sorts of places and she loves every minute. If the weather’s bad then they stay in and do all sorts of things. A lot of language study, some basic maths concepts, working on recognizing letters and tracing them with her finger.“

Rosie nodded. “An’ spearmints! We do lotsa spearmints!”

John laughed. “Yes, now that you have your own chemistry set. you two will be doing a lot more experiments together.”

‘My, but doesn’t that sound exciting!’ Clara exclaimed, a large grin appearing on her face as John’s daughter recounted the adventures Sherlock took her on with Sultan. ‘You’re such a lucky girl!’

‘I agree, you are so fortunate to have a father who is so involved in raising you up; and the adventures you’re describing seem really fun, but I certainly will not repeat your secret,’ Irene continued. 

The party continued on their walk for some time, Kate and Clara pleased that Irene had stayed and been accepted among the Watsons; for how else than in their company could she redeem her faults towards them - or more accurately towards John and Sherlock, Harry merely being an extremely overprotective sibling ?

At some point in the early afternoon when the sun was still high in the sky and more people started to descend in the streets to either go for a stroll or have a look for future presents - New Year’s had not come and gone yet, after all, and it was traditional to offer a gift at the very least to the person hosting the party - John decided it was time to leave the ladies so they’d finish the wedding shopping alone: he did not want to partake in anything to do with lingerie, much less when it involved his  _ sister _ .

Harry had him promise to get back to her so they would set a date to go and visit Aunt Adelaide and all the Watsons and proceeded to embrace her brother as she’d rarely done. Another farewell embrace from Clara and Kate (Irene felt uncomfortable and, once again, offered him her hand for a handshake) and off they went on their merry way to return to Sherlock whom Rosie and John had missed very much.

***

Sending Sultan upstairs first, John got a sleeping Rosie out of her seat and juggled her and the various bags and packages. Making his way up the stairs one step at a time he smiled hearing Sherlock talk to Sultan. Carefully settling Rosie on the sofa he kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Miss us?"

'You know I did,' Sherlock replied nonchalantly. 'A lot,' he added with more passion, turning his face to John's to meet his lips. 

'I suppose you had an eventful day,' he commented, pursing his lips in distaste as he showed John a thread of expensive cloth. 'I hope you had a nice day, considering the fact that I wasn't there and that  _ Irene _ was,' he continued, locking his fingers with John's. 

John sighed laying his still chilled hand on Sherlock's cheek. "I'm knackered. It was…. Interesting. To say the least. Make me a cuppa while I get Rosie tucked in for a nap and put away a couple things, would you? Then I'll tell you all about it. Everything. Promise. You know we missed you. Harry and Clara send their love." 

‘Hm,’ he replied eloquently, turning around to put the kettle on. ‘I’m glad you’ve spent some time with your sister that wasn’t a disaster. Yes, she’s changed, I know,’ he interjected before John had a chance to respond. ‘We can be thankful that she’s doing better, that’s a weight off your mind,’ he commented, setting the cups ready with a bit more force than necessary. His day had not been as pleasant as he thought it would be, and he clearly would need the aid of tea and John’s help to get down the frustration cloud he was currently riding. 

John raised a brow slightly. “Give me five minutes to get Rosie and Sultan tucked in bed for a nap and get changed. Then we’ll talk about all this.” He gently pulled Sherlock into a hug sighing deeply as some of the tension drained away. Nudging his jaw he smiled softly. “Back in a few.”

Upstairs he tucked Rosie in her cot smiling as Sultan took his place next to her where he could still watch the door. “Good boy. You just keep on watching over her.” Leaving the door cracked he changed quickly leaving his slightly damp clothes laid out to dry off a bit. Wrapping his hands around the warm mug he sipped his tea. “Mmm perfect. Thank you. So, you want to tell me what you did today since you already know most of how mine went?” 

Sherlock huffed. ‘I don’t know how yours went. But since you asked, mine didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Your absence might have been a factor,’ he reflected. ‘Not much of an intellectual challenge, it was simply… child’s play,’ he continued in a disappointed voice. ‘What sort of adventures did you get up to, then?’

John watched Sherlock with a fond smile. Ah, so it was one of those moods then. “Mmm how about we settle on the sofa while I finish my tea.” Settling on the couch he wrapped an arm around Sherlock pulling him closer. “It was…. Nice. Harry and Irene clashed a couple times whenever she thought Irene was being a bit too, well, Irene, with me. She did just about leave after lunch when she and Harry had got into it, but Rosie intervened and asked her to stay. Even insisted Irene push her for a bit. She kept talking to herself about friends so I’m guessing she thinks Irene needs friends. Clara and Kate are thick as thieves so that almost puts Irene on the same level as Harry. Family. So, apparently Rosie decided that Irene’s one of us now. Irene and Kate did volunteer to give Rosie some practical self defense lessons when she’s older. She seemed….. Different.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. A bit softer around the edges. Especially where Rosie’s concerned. I think Rosie had the same effect on her as she does Mycroft. Seems no one can stay distant and aloof when Rosie’s around.”

‘Hm. Family. Irene. I… don’t see how or why, especially after what she’s done to us. The day was obviously nice for Rosie, but I don’t understand how it was for you? Irene was there, after all, and I think you might dislike her more than I do.’

John sighed. “Let’s just say I’m beginning to be willing to give her a chance for Rosie’s sake. And Harry’s. Ok, so try to follow my logic here. It’s all a big circle and I’m not completely clear on it all yet, but here goes. I want Harry happy. Harry’s happy if Clara’s happy. Having Harry and Kate get along makes Clara happy. Irene is part of the Kate package. If I can manage to get along with Irene, then in a VERY roundabout way, Harry’s happy. I got the feeling that Irene was really trying. To make up for things. In fact, she did apologise for the entire mess.”

Eyes wide, Sherlock wrinkled his nose and he was speechless for almost five seconds, before he retorted, disbelievingly, ‘Irene was trying to make up and apologised.  _ Irene Adler _ . The Woman. I’m having a hard time computing these two different ideas,’ he commented.

John nuzzled Sherlock’s curls. “Missed you.”

‘At least you’ve had an interesting day,’ he said morosely.

“I’m sorry you had a not so good day.” John kissed the top of his head. “And, yes, I think she was apologising. She really wants to fix things and at least show us that she isn’t what she appears to be to everyone else. Would it cheer you up if I let you have one of your birthday presents early?” He smiled. “I found, well Rosie spotted it first, something for you that we know you’ll love. Figured since your birthday is coming up we’d give it to you then. But, I think maybe getting it now might cheer you up a bit.” 

‘’M not sure what all the fuss is about birthday presents but if you know I’ll love it, why not keep it for that day? I’m more than certain you can make me feel better in another way.‘

John laughed nuzzling along Sherlock’s neck. “Mmmmm… very true. Very true. I’d say we have at least an hour until Rosie’s up. We were a bit late getting her down for her nap and it was a very exciting day. Not to mention she’s still getting over being sick. We’ve got time. So, tell me what it’s going to take to turn your day from terrible to at least good.” 

Sherlock turned his head slightly to meet John’s ear. ‘I should leave that in your capable hands,’ he whispered, taking his hand and placing it between his legs. ‘As you said, there’s roughly an hour of… tranquility ahead of us and, as you well know, I get bored easily. Make it so that I am not… bored,’ he continued, biting at John’s earlobe.

John slid his hand over the rather prominent bulge in Sherlock’s pyjama pants. “Mmmm... Yes, I know you get bored easily.  _ Very _ easily. And a day without Rosie and Sultan and I around to help keep you occupied when there was a very dull case can’t have been very much fun.”

‘It really wasn’t, Sherlock mumbled. ‘Make it better,’ he demanded.

John laughed softly. “Right then, off to the bedroom with you and we’ll see what I can do to distract you.”

Sherlock didn’t wait to be asked twice. He lunged onto John’s lips and kissed him passionately before all but leaping to their bedroom. He hurried to sit on the bed and, as John walked into the room, reclined but kept himself propped up on his elbows. ‘How do you want me?’ he asked without any sort of preamble. The time for subtlety had gone out of the window long ago.

John chuckled, taking a moment to study Sherlock appreciatively. The slightly dishevelled curls from where Sherlock had obviously been running his hands through in frustration, the thin t-shirt that hinted at the well-sculpted muscles underneath, the worn pyjama bottoms that clung to Sherlock’s hips by sheer force of will rather than anything else… all painted a perfect picture. 

"Bloody gorgeous,” he murmured, quickly pinning him to the bed and kissing him eagerly.

Between Harry and Irene his nerves were still a bit frayed. “Couldn’t get home to you fast enough.” He pressed against Sherlock while his hands slid under the hem of Sherlock’s shirt, lightly skimming his ribs.

‘Took you long enough,’ Sherlock replied mock-accusingly. ‘It was very hard for me to stay… calm and collected, you know,’ he gasped when John’s fingers played with his sensitive nipples. ‘I thought… what advice do you keep on giving me? To… relax, isn’t it? I applied your method of relaxing but it didn’t seem to work. So I applied it once more. But still I was not… soothed. Can you help me, doctor?’ he breathed heavily, his hips undulating as he searched for friction.

“Mmmm you poor thing," John half-teased with a smirk trailing heated kisses and nips along Sherlock’s pale neck pausing to suck a mark on a pulse point as he settled one hand on Sherlock’s hip half to pin him in place and half to pull him closer. Stroking over the well-defined line of his hips with a thumb John rolled his hips slowly. “My poor love, stuck home all alone without a case or anyone to talk to. Have to make up for all that now.”

God, it had been ages since he’d felt like this. It was like being in uni again. No matter how much of Sherlock he got, he always wanted more, needed more. “Bet you’re not going to last very long, are you," he teased as his thumb stroked along the side of Sherlock’s cock.

Sherlock writhed under John’s soft, teasing stroking. Oversensitive as he was, he would probably not last long before pleasure became pain. He was never one to turn down a challenge. ‘What… makes you think… I could not… if I wanted to,’ he breathed, not consumed by the throes of lust enough to lose his arrogance and pride. 

“Because I know you pretty damn well by now.” John smirked. “And I know when you’re this worked up, it doesn’t take much to get you off. Not much at all.” He slid his hand over him slowly. “And then you’ll fall asleep,” he teased. Not that he’d mind. He liked having Sherlock half, or more than half, sprawled on top of him sound asleep. And after everything he’d already been through, a nap was sounding like a very good idea. After he was done having his way with Sherlock, of course. “So, the question is, just how much do I want to make you beg?”

‘Oh, you want me… to beg, now? You would do… well to start doing something... to that effect, then…’ he wriggled under John’s ministrations, digging his hands on John’s flesh to press him closer. ‘Please,’ he added in a seemingly bashful and submissive tone.

The tone didn’t fool John for a minute and he couldn’t help but smile at Sherlock’s attempt to cut right to the chase and get on with things. He chuckled. “Mmmm you are such a tease,” he chuckled stroking Sherlock slowly. “Right. Budge up and let me get these off you. Really need to have my hands on more of you. And get the shirt off too, while you’re at it,” he let the slightest hint of a command slip into his tone. Just enough to get a reaction from Sherlock. If Sherlock was going to play dirty, then so was he.

‘Your wish is my command… Captain, Sir,’ he added as a reflex. ‘You’ll have to be the one moving if you want me naked. Sir,’ he added quickly when he heard the cheek in his words. John threw him a glare as he stood up, making free of his own clothes.’For maximum… efficiency, I think it’d be best if we divest ourselves of our respective -’

He was silenced by the assault of John’s hungry mouth on his.  _ Maximum efficiency _ … It seemed John’s method was better than his. Stay silent, focus on what you’re doing and get where you need to be. Just like John’s hands and his cock meeting Sherlock’s. Right where it needed to be?  _ Not quite _ , he thought, rubbing himself against John. 

“Such a needy little thing today, aren’t you,” he chuckled, hands sliding over Sherlock slowly, teasing him. “Gorgeous.” Kissing him slowly he paused long enough to admire Sherlock. It was good to see he’d filled out again and was staying that way. Mostly thanks to Rosie’s insistence that he eat regularly. “Been thinking about you all day.” John moaned rubbing against Sherlock slowly. “Right, love, what do you need? Because whatever it is better not take too long… if I have to wait much longer to be in you I can’t be held responsible for what I do.”

Sherlock let out an echoing moan to John’s before kissing him. ‘What I need is your cock inside my arse. Sir,’ he breathed against his lips and turned, keeping their bodies pressed together, bending to invite John to take him.

“Subtle as a brick to the back of the head, aren’t you,” John huffed a chuckle. Not that he minded. Not a bit. Especially not right now. Grabbing the bottle of lube from the hiding place he’d stuffed it the last time it had been used. Slicking his fingers he eased two of them into Sherlock slowly stroking teasingly. “Mmmmm so tight for me… Not sure I’ll be able to fit. Might just have to deny you,” he teased.

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Sherlock complained, almost whining. ‘You’ve always fit, why would you stop now?’ he continued in a plaintive tone, the prospect of being denied striking a chord that resonated albeit feebly and was soon drowned in the sounds of the moans that escaped his lips as he fucked himself on John’s fingers.

“There are plenty of things I’d dare and this just might be one of those things.” John smirked working Sherlock open slowly. “And you never know how things might change.”

‘John…,’ he started, a question, a request for more.

John kissed along Sherlock’s neck nibbling teasingly as he stroked Sherlock’s hip before wrapping his hand around Sherlock’s cock. “Almost there, love. Almost. Don’t want to hurt you. So hard already. Know I love stroking you while I’m buried deep in you.” Voice a low rumble in Sherlock’s ear he rubbed against him teasingly.

‘What if…  _ I _ want you to...? You know I… like it...’ he suggested in a ragged breath, the muscles of his thighs already trembling, so ready, so eager he was for more pleasure.

John panted struggling to force some amount of blood back to his brain hands sliding over Sherlock’s marble pale, smooth skin as he struggled to think. Even for just a moment. “Yeah...” He managed nodding and probably looking like a complete idiot. “Sherlock…” He husked. “Just…”  _ Words. Words would be good right about now, Watson _ , the still semi-rational part of his brain yelled at him. “Sure?” Rocking his hips he moaned deeply. “Safe word?” That might be good. Letting himself go was sounding better and better. Usually he held himself just a bit in check with Sherlock. But this, being given complete permission to just let go, was incredible. And a bit terrifying. He’d only allowed himself that loss of control a few times and while it had been mind-altering, he knew it wasn’t something he could do often. He hadn’t earned his nickname for no reason after all.

'Hound,' Sherlock breathed without much of a pause, panting along with John. His movements were slow but decisive, giving Sherlock a strong inclination that their encounter would be most enjoyable. 'Of course I'm sure,' he moaned as an afterthought as John didn't give much of an indication that he would, in fact, grant his… Plea. 

John huffed a laugh dropping a kiss to the back of Sherlock’s neck nuzzling his curls. “Mmmm…. You’re a wonder, Sherlock Holmes. A wonder. Hound. Hound is good.” He would never get tired of Sherlock’s ability to use snark and sass no matter what the occasion was. “Don’t second guess. If you think you should say Hound, say it. Might take it a minute to process.” Sliding his hands along Sherlock’s ribs he pressed kisses over the barely visible scars that crossed his back. Adding a bit more lube he slicked his hand over his cock before pushing into Sherlock slowly and reminding himself to take it slow. At least at first.

‘Yes, hurry. Doubt I’ll need to use that word,’ he added in a soft moan. ‘Don’t hold back,’ he reminded him, interpreting the brief stillness in John’s hands as trepidation and uncertainty.

John huffed a laugh shaking his head. “Mmmm bossy as bloody ever. What’m I gonna do with you? Swear you feel better every time.” He draped himself over Sherlock’s back nibbling at his neck teasingly before quickly setting a quick, hard rhythm.

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat as he felt John everywhere - he had felt him everywhere before, obviously, but this experience was more powerful in that it was different. It also had the potential of overwhelming him: he had given John explicit permission not to let his self-applied morality constraints impede on their union, yes. However, to do that he had to have worked out some of his issues to give himself to John that way, with no barriers and no safety net aside from a word. John could do whatever he wished and Sherlock had given him permission to do so - without being high, which was a testimony to how deep his trust and love for John went.

He could only breathe out an exclamation of ecstasy as John pounded into him, anything else would end up being either incoherent rambling or being plain impossible, and thus was off the table.

“Beautiful.” John panted in his ear, one hand firmly squeezing Sherlock’s hip as he nipped his ear with a low growl. The amount of trust Sherlock had placed in him was incredible. John would keep just aware enough to be alert of any changes in Sherlock that might tell him things had gone too far. Maybe they both needed this. Maybe this had been the one last hurdle they had to get over before things would smooth out. He trusted Sherlock completely. There was no question of that. More than once he had happily left Rosie with him to get a couple hours away from work, from Mary, from everything, knowing Sherlock would be doting on the child and she’d be getting more affection than she would with Mary. He poured everything into each touch and each move keeping Sherlock grounded and focused.

His hands gripping the sheets beneath him, John's fingers digging on his hips while he was panting in his ear, Sherlock grunted his encouragements for John to take up an even rougher strain: beads of sweat pearled on his back and under his knees, but his brain was still working - although at a slower pace. 

He felt the love and trust John had for him, infused in his every touch, his every pounding, but something was lacking.

He had the impression that John was somehow still being careful. 

'John… My hair. Pleassss,' he breathed. 

So the both of them could completely let go, John needed to trust himself to stop if needed just as he, Sherlock, needed to trust himself to inform John that he was experiencing too many sensations and needed a break in their vigorous love-making. 

That a break would occur was not his goal, far from it; but it would only go to show how comfortable they were with each other and, indeed, themselves.

John never could resist Sherlock when he actually asked for something nicely. Even less so when he added ‘please’, and compounding it with the hint of a lisp made what little rational thought and control he had left fly right out the window. Tangling a hand in Sherlock’s dark curls he tugged carefully letting the silky strands slip through his fingers. It already had more curl than usual. “Beautiful.” John murmured in Sherlock’s ear pressing deep into him. 

John’s grasp on his hair was just strong enough to send a sparkle of arousal down his spine, and he expressed it loudly, panting between moans and cries of ecstasy as John continued to ram into him. ‘Yours,’ he gasped when John let go a little more and bit into his neck as he hit the spot, making Sherlock see dancing stars.

“Damn right you are.” John husked. “All mine.” Pulling Sherlock into every thrust he kissed and nipped along his neck and shoulders. And it was about time that he made Sherlock his completely. To hell with what anyone else thought of all of it. He wasn’t going to make another huge mistake. As soon as he could slip away from Sherlock long enough to do a bit of shopping he’d get him something special. “Mine always.” John lightly raked his teeth over Sherlock’s earlobe with a slight tug and a hint of a growl.

Sherlock’s cognitive functions were properly shutting off, he was thoroughly experiencing every single sensation John’s attentions gave him: never before had he felt all of this so completely, embracing it all, not wanting it to stop, even for five minutes.

Never before had he been so lost in the moment that he was incapable of even thinking. Since John and he had started a physical relationship, Sherlock had discovered how much more potent dopamine was when naturally produced and predictably, he could not get enough of it.

He had never given utter, free rein to his basest instincts and he was revelling in them, making sure that John knew how much he was savouring his passionate, unrestrained onslaught.

John was dimly aware of Sherlock’s lack of usual focus. It was a wonderful thing knowing he’d reduced Sherlock to a state where he wasn’t thinking and was simply letting himself feel and enjoy things. “That’s it. You’re so good. Feel so good for me.” He growled deeply hips snapping sharply against Sherlock’s as he stroked him with a firm grip.

Sherlock was bending his back, unaware of doing it and making it less ideal for John and him to have the most pleasure.

‘Don’t… stop…!’ he begged encouraged, panting as pleasure coursed through him, but John let go of him to grasp his neck and pulling him closer so his hips were curved as they met John’s at a more frenzied pace: he growled his pleasure just as John grunted his.

John was quickly learning Sherlock’s ‘tells’ in the way his body responded. It wouldn’t take much now. Sherlock was close. Very close. Wouldn’t take much for either of them. “That’s it.” He praised Sherlock. “Feel so good, love. Want you. Let go.” Panting he angled a thrust directly at Sherlock’s prostate nipping along his neck at the same time and Sherlock’s muscles tensed up for a millisecond before they relaxed and he exhaled loudly, his eyes opened wide as the sensations enveloped him.

‘Yours… Mh… ‘lwaysss,’ he breathed, his head bent and his hand reaching for John’s.

Gripping Sherlock’s hand with a squeeze he nodded. “Mine. Always. He panted gripping Sherlock’s hand tightly as the other held tightly to his hip with a grip that was sure to leave several colourful bruises on Sherlock’s marble pale skin. The way Sherlock trembled under him while clenching tightly was always incredible but everything was more intense this time. Panting harshly John moaned Sherlock’s name holding his hips in place as his muscles clenched sharply driving him deeper into Sherlock. Shouting his name John emptied into him. Half collapsing John shifted slightly in an attempt to not pin Sherlock under him completely. Blinking several times to clear the stars from the edges of his vision he squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “Sherlock?” He croaked hoarsely.

Sherlock registered John squeezing his hand and squeezed back, albeit with much less strength. He was spent under John’s relentless attentions - and the psychological release this particular encounter brought him was stronger than anything he’d tried.

Unable to speak as he was currently floating in a sea of endorphins, he simply mumbled to John.

John snorted a weak laugh. “Mark this day down in history. Today, John Watson left Sherlock Holmes utterly speechless for at least five minutes.” Grinning like an idiot he floated on a strong rush of endorphins. Holding Sherlock close he nuzzled his curls stroking his back lightly while Sherlock rode the wave of pleasure that was still coursing through him, following it until he was barely aware of anything save for being in John's arms. 

  
  



	9. Reunions

Once again they were aboard a train to visit family and to celebrate, this time not Christmas but Harry and Clara's union. 

Rosie was fast asleep cuddled with Sultan, coaxed as she had been by John after she'd had a beaker of still-warm milk. She would need all of her energy later on as she would not only see Harry and Clara but also for the first time meet her cousins and all her extended family. She was bound to be highly excited, energetic and generally speaking all over the place. 

Sherlock had booked a compartment for the three of them to have some peace and quiet in preparation for the reunion of the whole Watson family who was quite the party. 

He was daunted in this respect: no matter how much John reassured him, the prospect of meeting fifty new people, presumably with a boisterous character given what Harry, Clara, and John had told him, was not one he relished or was looking forward to. 

Mycroft had corroborated that description, and to nobody's surprise, he found himself regrettably and unavoidably detained by a meeting of national importance with representatives from Serbia. 

Sherlock was looking out of the window, watching the scenery change as they travelled north to Scotland, all the while drumming his fingers on his thigh. John took his hand raising it to his lips and kissing it lightly. “Sherlock, calm down. It’s going to be fine. The family’s been waiting to meet you and Rosie for ages now. You and Aunt Adelaide are going to get on like a house on fire. She has no filter and says she’s too old to start bothering with one now.” Chuckling he squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “Breathe.”

Sherlock glanced at John and raised an eyebrow. ‘Breathing’s boring,' he commented, acting, pretending for John's sake that he was not really concerned.    
‘Why would you assume I’m not calm? I  _ am _ calm. Extremely calm. Meeting all these new people… I couldn’t care less. There was a phrase with water on the back of an animal, can’t recall which one, a penguin?’ He turned his attention back to the window and the passing landscape, hoping against hope that he could fool John:  _ he _ was anxious to meet his family again after quite some time and the fiasco of the previous year. He really did not need him to be… apprehensive on top of his own feelings of distress.    
  
John snorted a laugh trying to calm Sherlock and talk himself out of his own anxieties. There was no doubt that the family would welcome Sherlock and Rosie with open arms but it was still a worry.    
“Look, everyone’s been there for a few days already. Aunt Adelaide’s rather expansive wine cellar will have been open and the Scotch will be flowing freely. Everyone will be in a very good mood. It’s a new beginning. Harry’s bringing Clara into the family, officially. And I’m bringing you, and Rosie, to meet everyone. They already know all about you from the blog and my calls with Aunt Adelaide. She’s already pointed out several times that the Watson tartan and the Holmes tartan are  _ very _ similar and the two will look lovely when mixed together. You’ll love her.”

'I doubt it,' he replied before adding as a look of confusion appeared on John's face, 'that they know "all about me"'. He didn't use air quotes but his face spoke volumes. 

Running his thumb over Sherlock’s knuckles in an effort to soothe both of their nerves John half shrugged. “They know quite a bit about you from the blog. You are  _ much _ more interesting to them than any of my army stories. Which are rather dull and repetitive when so many Watsons have served in the military over the years. You’ll discover that some of the clan tend to gossip a bit. They’ll be eager to meet you and will probably insist you join in on the impromptu jam sessions at the pub, after dinner, whenever the mood strikes. Can always use another violin or fiddle in the mix. They’ll like you fine. You’ve been there for me when I needed someone. When the rest couldn’t, or I wouldn’t let them be there. There was some bad blood for a while. Dad didn’t do himself any favours with most of the family. But Harry and I have always been Aunt Adelaide’s favourites. It’s been years since I was able to get away and spend any time with the family. Uni, med school, military.” Looking up at Sherlock he smiled a bit. “And then there was you. Couldn’t very well go off to Scotland for a week or two and leave you in London. There’s no telling what trouble you would have got yourself into,” he teased gently.

'I am not that much of a maverick,’ he countered with little passion and shrugged. ‘As you know, I am used to being… disliked, so I would not worry about whether they like me. I would probably mind but not dwell on it. I’ve never heard you talk of your family much apart from Harry, but I do have to admit that your Aunt sounds like a particularly interesting person. I confess to being eager to meet her, even if there is no pompous prat put-down to witness in the near future,’ he sighed and turned away once more, pondering how the whole meeting John’s extended family would go and trying to calm his mind from creating too many catastrophic scenarios - despite John’s evident efforts, the strength of his anxiety over encountering anyone new was too strong to be abated in the blink of an eye, let alone _fifty_ new people.  
He lost himself in his thoughts, closed his eyes to put some order in the chaos of his mind and wrestled with the onslaught of his anguishes.

  
  


The train arrived at the station of Inverness, a thick coat of snow on the ground. Winter had not come and gone with the New Year: if possible it had become stronger, especially in Scotland where everything seemed fiercer than in the milder climate of England.

“JOHNNY BOY!!!!!” A voice boomed through the general buzz of conversation. A mountain of a man lumbered across the platform, his bushy red beard covering most of his face. 

Rosie looked up with wide-eyed wonder, holding tightly to Sherlock’s hand and Sultan’s lead. “Hagwid…” she murmured a bit awestruck. 

“MAC!” John grinned in return, greeting the giant warmly. 

With one move the giant appeared to attempt sweeping John’s head off his shoulders. Sherlock blanched, taking a step back while his heart skipped a beat, even though he  _ knew  _ that this reunion was a merry one for both John and the giant.   
In a blink, John had the man flat on his back in the snow with a rather loud thud. After a few breathless moments of silence, the giant began laughing before John helped him to his feet. Wrapping John in a hug that lifted him off the ground for several seconds and popped several things in his back he laughed. “Been too long, Johnny Boy!” 

Setting John back down he grinned down at Sherlock. A hand the size of a large ham clapped him on the shoulder sending him stumbling a bit. “Ye mus’ be Sherlock! ‘eard all ‘bou’ ye from Johnny.” He grinned at John with a wink leaning closer to Sherlock in a conspiratorial tone. “‘andsome devil innit! Ye did good!! Ye’ve bin good for Johnny Boy.”    
  
Still recovering from the force of Mac’s clap on his back as well as the surprise that such rowdy behaviour seemed to be the norm and that there were uncommonly large persons in John’s family, regardless of how distantly related they were, Sherlock nodded slowly.    
‘Thank you, yes,’ he answered rather stiltedly, unsure of how to navigate the interactions with the giant.    
  
Spotting Rosie who was looking more than a bit overwhelmed, Mac knelt in the snow to make himself as small as possible. Smiling gently he offered her a large hand. Even if John’s cousin did not show any indication of threat and John did not look at all worried, paternal instinct screamed at Sherlock to protect his daughter.  _ Irrational _ .   
“‘ullo Miss Rosie. Pleasure t’ be makin’ yer acquaintanc’. Bonny wee lass you are. An’ this mus’ be Sultan. ‘andsome pup 'e is.” Offering his hand to Sultan for a sniff he carefully gave his head a pat.   
  
John chuckled, shaking his head. “Sherlock, meet Duncan MacTavish. He’s part of the clan. In a roundabout way. We’re cousins somehow that makes my head hurt to properly figure out. He’s a giant but he’s a good one. He runs the pub and handles some of the heavy work around Aunt Adelaide’s estate.” Smiling as Mac swept Rosie up on his shoulder with a delighted squeal he smiled. “And a sucker for small children and dogs.”   
  
Mac nodded keeping a steadying hand on Rosie who was comfortably propped on a large shoulder offering his free hand to Sherlock. “Pleasure t’ finally meet ye in person. We’re always followin’ yer adventures on Johnny Boy’s blog. Ye two make quite th’ pair,” he grinned warmly.

Sherlock took the proffered hand faintly, still slightly wary of John’s cousin.    
‘Yes, thank you. Likewise, obviously,’ he answered, his tone cautious and reserved. John gave him a look encouraging him to be more polite and forthcoming and he knew that he would cause John disappointment if he spoilt his mirth.    
‘Apologies, Mr. MacTavish, it has been a rather long journey to come here and meet John’s family - of whom he makes quite the mystery. You might have to educate me in this area,’ he added, not especially looking forward to having Mac as his tutor when it came to the Watson’s family as he was rather hoping the Aunt John had repeatedly mentioned and who seemed like an endless source of entertainment and information would provide all the tutoring he needed on that particular subject. But as he was adamant not to ruin John’s good mood, he persisted in a pleasant attitude with the giant of a man who had come to greet them.

  
Mac slapped Sherlock on the back again quickly steadying Sherlock before he could topple into a snowbank. “Ye’ll meet ‘em soon enough. Lots of th’ same names. Though John’s the only one who’s Johnny.” Grinning he leaned down a bit to whisper conspiratorially in Sherlock’s ear at a perfectly audible volume. “Cause he’s th’ smallest of ‘em y’know.”    
John snorted rolling his eyes. “Mac, compared to you,  _ everyone _ is small.”    
Roaring with laughter he nodded. “Righ' ye are, Johnny Boy, righ' che are! Come on then. I don’ get you up to th’ house soon Her Ladyship’ll have my head.”   
  
John chuckled. “Ahhh so she’s organizing the troops. Full General mode. Why am I not surprised?” Mac grinned, settling Rosie and Sultan into the back of a large Range Rover. “Aye, that she is. An’ been lookin’ forward t’ seein’ you lot.”    
John climbed in beside Rosie making sure her car seat and seatbelt were securely fastened. “Sherlock, you can ride up front with Mac.” 

Mac took the curving road half-covered in ice like a madman chatting to Sherlock about the rather complex family tree while barely looking at the road and narrowly avoiding a herd of black-faced sheep that were crossing from one field to another. Pulling to a stop in front of the large manor house he jumped out easily still talking. John smirked glancing at Sherlock as he set Rosie and Sultan down. “Sherlock, you ok?” 

Visibly shaken, his face ashen, Sherlock let out a loud breath before breathing in deeply through his nose before exhaling loudly again. He remained in his seat while he heard John taking care of Rosie and Sultan barking happily. ‘F-fine,’ he replied in a very low voice, barely more than a whisper. He did not elaborate as he was trying to keep himself together and not feel sick.    
Sherlock Holmes did not vomit.

_ Why? _ he wondered. Obviously, John knew that Mac’s driving skills were under-developed and that he was reckless behind the wheel. Why did he tell Sherlock to sit next to him?

John smiled a bit trying not to look smug. “Mac’s one of the best drivers you’ll ever find. He has a sixth sense behind the wheel. If I had any questions as to his real ability to drive do you think I would have let him drive Rosie around?” He rubbed Sherlock’s back. “Breathe. You’ll be ok.”    
  
An elegantly dressed older woman stood just inside the front door wrapped in a wool shawl against the cold watching them. “If you gentlemen are quite done being stupid and standing out in the snow, there are tea and scones fresh from the oven waiting inside.’   
John grinned and shooed Rosie inside. “And that’s Aunt Adelaide.”    
Mac nodded with a smile looking a bit in awe. “Aye. I’ll bring yer bags in an’ take ‘em up to yer rooms.”    
  
Making their way through the large entrance hall while greeting several people John led Sherlock and Rosie through the house toward the back. Entering a large room with windows and doors covering nearly one long wall and leading out into the gardens he sighed, shoulders relaxing as his mood was appeased by his aunt who seemed to put everyone at ease. The warm cream paint contrasted with the dark wood beams overhead and comfortable furniture was scattered about with a small grouping near a large fireplace with a crackling fire. The whole house was welcoming despite its large size.

Seated in a chair and sipping tea Adelaide smiled warmly watching Rosie and Sultan dash about exploring the room. “John. It’s been too long. Far too long,” she scolded with a smile. Shrugging and looking like a boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar he nodded. “I know. I’m sorry Aunt Adelaide. Rosie, love, be careful!”    
Laughing she patted John’s cheek when he bent to kiss hers. “Let the child be. I seem to remember you and Harriet doing much the same thing at her age. And worse.” Turning her gaze to Sherlock she held her hand out. “The famous, or should I say infamous, Sherlock Holmes. It is a pleasure to meet you at last.” 

John had already settled in a chair nibbling on a scone and pouring tea.

Sherlock visibly relaxed at John’s Aunt Adelaide’s words. He bent to delicately take her hand in his and lightly brushed his lips against her skin as he greeted her.    
‘Ms. Stuart, I am delighted to finally make your acquaintance as John has so often spoken about you. I am extremely honoured to be received in your warm and welcoming home. Thank you,’ he concluded in a deep, respectful voice. ‘May I insist Rosie greet you as well, my -’ he stopped himself short before making a blunder. She might not be a titled Lady, although everything indicated she was. One must not assume: Mummy had been very diligent that he respect decorum if nothing else.   
  
Adelaide giggled delightedly over Sherlock’s formality. “Oh, but you  _ are  _ a dear, aren’t you. And quite easy on the eyes too. Sit, make yourself comfortable. No reason to be so formal. Let the child explore. She’ll undoubtedly come for something to nibble on.” Sipping her tea she studied Sherlock who took a seat, crossing his legs and keeping his back straight.

“I can see how you and John would  _ fit _ well together.” She sipped her tea with a hint of John’s smirk at the corner of her mouth. Sherlock was bewildered by the innuendo she had just made as if it had been any other innocent remark. He briefly wondered whether the most surprising was that he had understood it.  _ John is rubbing off on me _ , he thought as a smirk of his own appeared on his lips. John snorted into his tea glancing over at Sherlock with a ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you’ look. 

“Of course,” she continued, “I’ve followed your career for some time.” Sherlock gave her all his attention.  _ This woman is  _ delightfully _ interesting. _

“I told John I thought moving in with you would do him a world of good. Some excitement and someone to look after and patch up on occasion. And now the added excitement of fatherhood. As well as a charming spaniel setter mix. Excellent.”    
  
Finally tiring of exploring the room, Rosie made her way to them.    
“Papa, up pease.” She smiled as Sultan flopped down on the rug in front of the fireplace and her Papa took her in his arms, his face softened as Rosie snuggled into him before eyeing the plate of scones.   
Laughing softly Adelaide offered her one. “Hello, dear Rosie. It is so very nice to finally meet you.” Nibbling on the scone Rosie smiled a bit shyly.    
“Hi Auntie.”    
Stroking Rosie’s tumble of golden curls Adelaide smiled softly. “Darling child. She looks so much like you, John. But she definitely has your eyes Sherlock.”

Sherlock slightly arched an eyebrow. ‘I will not do you the discourtesy of asking how you can know of her parentage,’ he smiled, ‘and gladly accept the compliment you address me. She is a delight, is she not?’ he continued, strangely unconcerned that something he had been so irate that Mycroft inform them of were known and established as irrefutable, hard facts of nature by a woman whom neither he nor Rosie had ever met before. John sighed with a slight shrug. He’d got used to her keen observations over the years. That someone else he admired had the ability to read people and situations was part of what put him in awe of Sherlock. As a child, he’d always been convinced she was some sort of wonderfully kind witch.   
‘I admire your sensibility and the astute remark you gave John. I am blessed that he did move in with me as we now form a happy, loving family.’   
  
She laughed softly. “Some people might not notice, and the eye colour of children does change some over time, but you have remarkably distinctive eyes and it seems Rosie has inherited that as well as your curls. John’s hair was never really curly and Harriet’s only became curly once she aged. You though, have always had those lovely curls, haven’t you ?”

‘Indeed. May I ask, have you been talking to Mummy? She is the only person who would know and share this information, however futile, but that seems to be what parents do. Of course, as I imagine you know,’ he added, taking the cup of tea resting on the side table near him, ‘my brother being older than I am  _ would _ know of my curly hair ever since I could walk, however I fail to envisage how he would have come to mention it, or indeed how he would know you.’ He stopped for a second before continuing voicing his thought process. ‘John might have been sly and showed you pictures he acquired from my mother before we arrived,’ he continued, throwing John a suspicious look. ‘However, I doubt this last possibility as we have been rather preoccupied with Rosie falling ill at Christmas which we were spending at my parents’. Christmas has been so eventful there has been no time for my mother to decide on pictures to give John, she would not have sent any through the post nor would she have used a smartphone to take a picture of it even though there was enough time then, thus hardly making it possible for John to have a photograph of me as a toddler to show you. I dismiss this idea entirely, it is not possible. The second supposition I had made is simply ludicrous and the only viable one is the first one: you have been talking with Mummy.’ Once again he interrupted his deducing to look at her, trying to find a memory or anything which could indicate that the two women knew each other. Unable to find one, he told her as much.   
‘It is the only possible solution, improbable though it is as I cannot find any clue that would show Mummy and yourself know each other. How?’ he finally asked her, slightly frustrated at being unable to find the answer he was looking for. 

She smiled looking quite pleased by his deduction and line of reasoning. “Oh you are as clever as I’ve heard. Excellent. Your mother is quite brilliant. Always at the top of her classes. Especially in maths. Imagine my utter delight when the son of one of my favourite former university students and my favourite nephew found their way to each other with very little meddling.” Sherlock’s eyes shone brighter and an expression of surprise was painted on his face. “I do wonder if Rosie’s curls will stay gold like John and Harriet’s or turn that lovely dark chocolate colour yours have taken on. Too early to tell. Though I suspect she’ll have your height. Not as tall, but a bit taller than John.” Patting John’s knee she smiled. “I am sorry dear.” John shrugged with a smile. “Never really mattered much to me. Lower center of gravity worked in my favour most of the time.”

Sherlock looked at John with wonder in his eyes. How could he stay so stoic when he’d just learnt his Aunt had taught Sherlock’s mother and, more interestingly, that there had been meddling, albeit “very little”, so that the two of them met.

‘John?’ he started without following through. Did he know? Why didn’t he ever say anything? Despite the happy outcome, isn’t meddling like that, however little it may have been, an attack on their freedom?

Questions and protestations died even before they could form on his lips. ‘Mire,’ he whispered as he locked his eyes on John’s, wishing him to steer the conversation to a safer place or to provide answers to his unasked questions.

John sighed with a half smile. “I didn’t know you’d taught Sherlock’s mum at uni. Don’t know why I’m surprised.”    
Adelaide smiled with a shrug. “Well Violet and I don’t talk or communicate all that often. And it took us a bit of time to figure everything out. If we’d truly been meddling it wouldn’t have taken you two this long to realise what you had in each other. We might have nudged, given our approval, encouraged you both not to give up no matter how bleak things looked, but we didn’t meddle that much. You two are not our only projects you know.”

  
Another woman in an immaculate tan suit with an emerald green silk shirt under the jacket entered carrying a bowl of water and a small bowl of food for Sultan. John smiled, setting his cup and plate down to take them and kiss her cheek. “Lara, you shouldn’t have. I could have got something in a bit.”    
Waving him off she knelt to make a fuss over Sultan. “John Watson, deprive me of a chance to meet a new dog? I think not. You should know better by now.” She huffed good-naturedly, running a hand over Sultan. “Oh he’s a grand pup. Quite sturdy. Smart too, I can tell. He has that look about him.” Giving Sultan a scratch behind the ears she smiled at Sherlock extending her hand to shake as she rose from her spot on the floor to greet Sultan. “You must be Sherlock. I’ve heard so much about you through John. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Lara.”    
  
John gave Sherlock a half grin. “Lara’s Aunt Adeladie’s live-in PA, secretary, and nurse.”    
  
‘It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of someone who plays such an important role in Lady Adelaide’s life,’ he replied, taking her hand to brush his lips against it as he’d done with John’s Aunt Adelaide earlier: she looked an absolute delight and seemed to be as lively and prone to speak her mind as Adelaide was. He didn’t know yet what her personality was, but his observations indicated that she had a profound respect for people no matter how abrasive they were: Lady Adelaide’s live-in PA was evidently part of the family just as much as John and Harry were and deserved as much respect as she gave. He doubted however that she was as intellectually advanced as Lady Adelaide or as frank and cunning. Nevertheless; he could not find anything against her character; nor did he want to. 

  
Taking her seat beside Adelaide who leaned into her slightly she accepted a cup of tea from the other woman. “And this little lady must be Rosie. Oh my dear, you have so many cousins waiting for a new playmate. I’m certain Sultan will get along with the rest of the dogs just fine. As well as the cows and horses.” 

At the mention of horses, Rosie perked up considerably. Most of the time adults talking was very dull. “Horsies?” 

Lara smiled. “Oh my, yes, dear. We keep several here. And there are sheep as well. Plenty of animals for you to get to see up close. And perhaps if you’re  _ very _ lucky, you might see Nessie. She lives in the deep waters of the Loch and sometimes appears to very lucky young girls just your age.”

‘It seems you have quite the estate. Of course, as we arrived we could see you had large acres of land and it only makes sense that there are many people living on it,’ Sherlock commented appreciatively. “This is most likely at least as large or even larger than your Grand-mère and Grand-père’s estate,’ he added to Rosie. ‘You are sure to have a lot of fun and, as Ms Lara just said, you will get to meet a lot of children your age whose conversation is not as dull as ours. However, since the journey has been long and that you have slept through most of it, you should eat something first before going gallivanting in search of new friends. Are we in agreement, young lady?’ he asked her, a point of severity to his mostly loving tone.

“Sultan has snack an’ I have a snack. More scones?” She leaned her head against Sherlock’s chest looking at him upside down. John laughed as Sherlock tried to keep stern.    
“Yes, I suppose you can have another scone and I’m sure there’s milk or juice for you too. And I’m sure some fruit and vegetables as well. Although I suppose good jam could be considered close enough to count as fruit as part of your snack. And I’m sure most of your cousins have seen all your favourite Disney movies and will be happy to talk about them and watch them with you. Plus you’ll be able to show everyone how much you’ve learned from your language studies with Papa. Especially from Brave.” He smiled at her. 

‘Your Papa could not be prouder of the progress you have made and such progress must be boasted on. You can have one more scone,’ he conceded, picking one with raisins in it. ‘Don’t forget to put jam on it and have some fruit with the milk you have been ignoring,’ he held out a couple of peeled satsumas. ‘I grant you,’ he continued as he saw the look of an imminent disagreement show on her face,’it was hidden in a beautiful cup with the lid closed on it; however, now that you know it contains milk, I expect you to drink it. Only then will I let you go run off, he concluded holding her tightly. ‘My Princess,’ he said, placing a kiss on her golden curls.

Rosie huffed giving Sherlock the look he gave John whenever he insisted that he needed to eat. She obediently placed one of the segments in her mouth and chewed it.    
John snorted. “Hmmmm where have I seen  _ that _ look before?” Spreading a layer of marmalade on the scone with a drizzle of honey he passed the plate to Sherlock. Leaning closer to Rosie he smiled. “I think Papa should have a bit of a snack too. It’s been a long time since he ate, hasn’t it.” Sipping her milk Rosie nodded whispering to John. 

“We shares. I makes Papa eat.”    
John sat back with a satisfied smile and a raised eyebrow as if daring Sherlock to avoid the trick they used to get Rosie to eat. Sherlock sighed, resigned.   
  
Adelaide chuckled softly at the joint display of parenting and Sherlock’s obvious adoration of Rosie. “Well, it seems you two have a handle on everything. I take it she’s not usually a picky eater.”    
John shook his head. “Not usually, no. But she can be a bit stubborn when she sets her mind to something.”    
She nodded with a smile. “Oh, I’m quite sure she comes by that naturally from both of you. That and she’s at the age where she’s learning to express her distinct opinions.”    
Lara smiled watching them. “You two are doing quite well parenting. It isn’t always easy, but I’m sure you have plenty of help when you need it.”    
John nodded. “We even have Sherlock’s brother who’s usually willing to help out. Mycroft is surprisingly good with her. Even if his first impression was to comment she appeared ‘fully functioning’.” He snickered. “Rosie adores him. He even did something very special for her for Christmas. And she got him a lovely gift.”   
  
Rosie grinned. “Unca Mycrotoft gotted a wainbow unitorn umb’ella ‘cause he da guv’ment.” 

Adelaide chuckled. “Oh how very clever of you, Rosie! I’ll be certain to remark on it when he arrives. And if it doesn’t arrive with him, I can assure you it will get here.”   
  
Sherlock put his scone down, turning his attention to Adelaide. ‘ _ When _ he arrives…?’ he inquired so she would develop. ‘Why should  _ Mycroft, _ of all people, be here? I can’t imagine either Clara nor Harry to invite him. It is  _ their  _ wedding, after all,’ he babbled to John.

  
John nodded looking every bit as confused as Sherlock while Adelaide smiled smugly.    
“Why, it’s the wedding of my favourite niece. John, I don’t suppose you’ve forgotten that I’ve done work with Her Majesty. We’ve known each other for ages. She let me know that she has other matters to attend to and regrettably won’t be able to be here for it. But she  _ is  _ sending along a representative with a very nice gift for Harry and Clara. I believe she insisted he bring someone with him. And not his assistant.” Smirking she sipped her tea delicately while John looked at Sherlock, shaking his head with a slow smile.    
  
“Oh, won’t Mycroft just be thrilled to see us here. Sent to be a guest at what he thinks is some random wedding and he runs into us. He’s going to be so confused.”   
  
‘Oh he most definitely will;’ Sherlock replied with a large smile, the brotherly rivalry with Mycroft never leaving him. ‘John,’ he added in a whisper, ‘you have never told me nor even  _ hinted _ that you were, in fact, not entirely from small means and very well connected, at that.’ An awkward look formed on John’s face. ‘You always surprise me,’ he continued with a pleased tone. ‘How can I ever fall into the dullness of repetition with you?’ he concluded with a small kiss to his temple.

  
John grinned cheeks a bit pink with Sherlock’s praise. “Yeah, well, it’s not me. I mean. It just didn’t seem like there was a reason to bring it up. I’m kind of used to her being extraordinary. And in normal circumstances didn’t seem like anything that needed to be brought up.”    
Adelaide smirked a bit. “It was rather sweet of you to steal that ashtray for John. I do hope you leave it out for your brother to see. And just between us, She is very amused that you took it. And that you refused to get dressed.” 

Sherlock gave John a pointed look to signify that his reluctance to conform to society's rules was, in fact, not to be frowned upon if Her Majesty found it ‘amusing’.   
Glancing at a small decorative clock Adelaide smiled. “In fact, your brother should be arriving any moment now. Why don’t you go and greet him? Lara, would you please bring in the good tea set for Mycroft. Rosie can enjoy the kitchen. I’m certain Moira would be happy to meet Rosie and settle her playing with the rest of the little ones.”    
Lara nodded with an amused smile. “Of course. Rosie dear, would you like to go meet your cousins? There will be some very nice snacks in the kitchen. Your fathers will be right here.”    
Looking a bit uncertain Rosie looked from John to Sherlock.    
  
“It’s ok, Rosie. Wherever Moira is, Mac’s likely to be. It’s ok.”   
‘Yes, Rosie darling. Go without fear. As Lady Adelaide’s just suggested, we’ll go and greet your Uncle Mycroft and the person accompanying him. I wonder who it could be… We will follow you soon after, I promise you my sweet’ he concluded, as he passed his fingers tenderly through her hair.   
‘I admit that his upcoming presence is highly unexpected, but his representative function will help in holding his tongue in place.’

“And so will seeing Rosie.” John added. “Sultan’s going to go with you. You’re perfectly fine.” 

Lara smiled holding her hand out to Rosie as Sultan danced around them eager to explore more of the house. 

“Come along Rosie. You will adore your cousins.” Talking to her comfortably she led her to the kitchen leaving her with Mac and his wife along with a large group of children who eagerly welcomed a new playmate who came with a dog.   
  
Carrying in another tea seat Lara set it down carefully. John snickered, admiring the delicate china cups with profanity painted on them in delicate script.    
“You really have it out for Mycroft and you haven’t even met him yet!” 

Adelaide smiled primly with a slight shrug. “Well I won’t have him coming into my home and thinking he can boss me around.”    
Shaking his head and trying not to laugh John held up his hands. “God forbid anyone do that.”    
  
Adelaide smiled at Sherlock. “So, which cup shall we give him dear? Fuck off, Eat a dick? That one would be rather appropriate I think. Dickhead? You’ve been poisoned?”

Sherlock blinked, at a loss as to how to react to such forwardness for a second, before answering.   
‘Yes, a teacup telling him to eat a dick would be appropriate, and isn’t it funny to consider what is more appropriate in a collection of inappropriate items? I wonder if the one telling him he’s been poisoned is not funnier. The tartan pattern on the cup and its saucer would be a nice, subtle attack to his English pride, hammering the point home when he reaches the end of the cup. Nevermind that the Queen ** _ is _ ** of Scottish descent, he is more devoted to England than he is to any of the four countries making up our nation. Well, there are  _ some  _ things I consider useful to know and have not deleted, John;’ he added when John let out a small gasp of surprise, his eyes popped and his mouth formed an O.    
  
John smiled, shaking his head. “You’re brilliant, you know that? You delete the solar system, but remember that? You’re an endless wonder.” 

Adelaide smiled appreciatively. “Thank you, Sherlock. ‘You’ve been poisoned’ it will be. Perhaps it would be best to reserve the cup with the ‘eat a dick’ inscription to his companion. If you don’t think it would offend.” 

John shook his head. “Greg’s a DI with Scotland Yard. He won’t be offended. Knowing Greg he’ll think it’s hilarious.”    
Adelaide nodded with a smile carefully placing a small cut crystal box on the tray. “Now, Sherlock, if this takes things a step too far, please tell me and I will completely understand. But if it will make your brother that much more uncomfortable I will leave it.” 

She passed the box to Sherlock. The lid had ‘cocaine’ printed on it in elegant script. 

“From back in the days when it was considered medicinal. It’s been thoroughly cleaned of course. Now I just keep sugar in it for my own amusement.”

  
***

Tires screeched on the snow-covered gravel as a car came to a stop. In it, Mycroft straightened his jacket and thanked the chauffeur. It had been a long drive up to Scotland, and further to Aldourie where Her Majesty had insisted he went as a representative for the wedding of the niece of a very dear friend of Hers. 

The castle was magnificent, in a different way Windsor Castle was, but still quite impressive. He turned to Greg, sitting beside him in the extremely fine suit Mycroft had him try on as soon as he'd learnt of this representative function, his fingers slightly shaking. 

'Are you all right, Gregory? It is but a formality, there is no need to be anxious. As I've told you repeatedly, we will be out faster than you would think,' he said reassuringly. 

  
“You keep saying that and my instincts tell me that you’re wrong. I haven’t got this far being a cop and ignore my instincts when they’re telling me you’re very, very wrong. And I still feel... weird … in this suit. It fits too well. I don’t see why one of my better suits wasn’t good enough.” He fidgeted trying not to wrinkle the fabric. “You do know I will probably never wear this again, right?” Sighing he looked at the large sprawl of buildings and the vast expanse of property, catching a glimpse of the loch through the trees. “You really have no idea why  _ you _ , personally, of all people, have to be here for this?” Glancing over at Mycroft he smirked. “Although a few days of a lighter workload for both of us will be nice. Means we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves. As often as possible.”

‘You are needlessly worrying,’ replied Mycroft slowly shaking his head. ‘A high-end suit is expected when one is representing Her Majesty, even when only accompanying the representative. Your better suits are… fine, when it comes to work, press conferences and the like but most definitely  _ not  _ in a situation such as this one. I  _ am  _ a government official and as such I like to think that Her Majesty relies on me. Though it seems unlikely it would happen again. I intend to do my job well and enjoy it with my gorgeous plus-one.’

  
“Flattery will get you everything, cheeky bastard.” Greg grumbled good naturedly. “Gorgeous old house though. Must have a small village there. You can feel all the excitement and activity even from here.” 

Getting out of the car he straightened his suit and ran a hand over his hair hoping that it wasn’t too out of place. He’d refused to do anything more with it than what he usually did. Squinting at the figure in the doorway he shook his head. It couldn’t be. He squinted again. “Sherlock?!” turning he looked at Mycroft. “What the bloody hell is Sherlock doing here?! If there’s been a murder so help me...” he grumbled.

Eyebrows shooting up to his forehead, eyes opening wide and taking half a step back, Mycroft clutched the handle of his umbrella. Why, indeed, was Sherlock present? What had happened? He knew that there was nothing which could make his brother leave his flat after the recent developments in his life; however something evidently had.   
Sherlock and John shared an unconventional interest in crimes and homicides, but in their current circumstances, the idea of them going out to satisfy their interest was going a bit too far.   
He breathed in sharply through his nose.   
‘I believe John should be able to tell us,’ he replied, despite having been the bearer of rather good news under a week before, he was not quite willing to meet his brother after the drama which unfolded between the two of them at Christmas. ‘Wherever Sherlock is, John follows.’   
  
John stood beside Sherlock taking in Greg’s expression and Mycroft’s confusion with a smirk. “Mm now that is worth coming all this way for. It’ll get even better when Mycroft drinks his tea.” He chuckled. “I’ll go talk to Greg. You stay here and keep glowering at your brother.”   
  
Walking out to meet Greg he smiled. “Glad you and Mycroft made it. Rosie will be thrilled to see you. And I’m sure Harry and Clara won’t mind two more guests. Especially since Sherlock and I know you.” He teased. “This is my aunt’s estate. Harry’s always been a bit of a favourite so when our aunt offered to have the wedding here, she couldn’t say no.”   
  
Greg chuckled. “Bloody hell. Wait until Mycroft figures this out. My guess is he’ll at least know  _ of _ your aunt. Small world. It’s always good to see you though. And any chance I get to see Rosie’s a good one.”

His coat tightly closed around him to protect himself from the wind, Sherlock stood on the porch, glowering at his brother as John had suggested and enjoying being taller than Mycroft - if only for a few more moments.   
Upon seeing that Gregory was not coming back to him but was staying to talk with John, Mycroft decided to make his way to his brother, not relishing the prospect of having to inform Her Majesty that there had been a murder at the wedding She had sent him to attend in Her name.   
For what other reason would Sherlock be there - and Gregory talking to John for so long, electing not to inform him of what was happening?

He walked up to Sherlock, expecting nothing but his usual snarky comments as greetings. It would only be fair that he be the first to speak, for once. He composed himself an attitude of calm and haughtiness, balancing his umbrella as he walked the snowed path to the castle.

‘Brother mine, how extraordinary it is to see you out of your lair. Apologies, I meant flat. But I see that the good doctor is still with you. I was concerned for a moment that you had decided to abandon your newfound love for your family, and indeed, your family, when murder came knocking.’

Rosie barrelled out a side door with three of her cousins, who appeared to be triplets, along with Sultan and several other dogs. Barely pausing to notice her uncles she waved to Sherlock.    
“Hi Papa! We’s gonna go sees baby cows!”    
A slender woman trailed along behind with a pile of mittens, hats, and scarves. 

“Will you all possibly slow down for a moment?!” She sighed, shaking her head with a fond smile.    
  
Sherlock arched an eyebrow.   
‘You were saying, brother dear?’   
  
Rosie dashed toward Sherlock wrapping her arms around his legs in a tight hug. Her golden curls peeked out from a warm hooded coat and someone had found boots for her that appeared only slightly too big.   
“Papa! There’s COWS!!! They’s VERY fuzzy!! They can’t see ‘cause they so shaggy!!” She giggled delighted with the new knowledge. “And sheeps too!! Soft an’ fuzzy sheeps!!” 

Moira smiled holding a hand out to Rosie. “Come on Rosie, can’t let the boys have all the fun!” Rosie gave Sherlock another hug before dashing off after the boys with a whoop.   
  
Mycroft was taken aback. It would have been irresponsible from Sherlock to take his daughter to an active crime scene so John would not have permitted that she be allowed anywhere near the scene. In his head, his mother’s voice echoed  _ Sherlock’s grown and matured. You would do well to do so as well, Richard Mycroft Jack Holmes. ‘Lead her astray’, what were you  _ thinking?   
He faced his brother again and took in how he was dressed. He was wearing a better suit than usual, a distinct scent of perfume and his hair was groomed. Not to mention that his niece was playing with other children, exploring a place as she would if she thought she might visit again in future.   
_ Curiouser and curiouser. _ _   
_ ‘Have you developed a newfound dubious interest in… Crime and castles? Even from you, that’s a lot.’   
  
John slipped an arm around Sherlock, ignoring Mycroft for the moment as he watched Rosie and her cousins. “And what was that all about? That was Moira. She’s Mac’s wife. Absolutely sweet and gentle. She’ll take care of Rosie.” He glanced at Mycroft. “You two should come in. Aunt Adelaide’s waiting. And she does  _ not _ like to be kept waiting.”

  
  


Adelaide was sitting in her chair near the fire, back ramrod straight and sipping tea while she watched Rosie and the boys go past the large windows. John led them into the room stopping to kiss her cheek. “Aunt Adelaide, this is Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. He’s the one who gave Sherlock a chance at working with the police. Sherlock makes the homicide department look good because of the high solve rate. And this is Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s older brother.” Settling in a chair he let his hand rest on Sherlock’s knee.   
  
Greg bowed slightly with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, thank you for inviting us to Harry's wedding. It’s always nice to see Sherlock and John. And especially Rosie.”   
  


_ Harry's wedding. That does explain John, Sherlock and Rosie's presence here.  _

  
Adelaide smiled warmly at him. “John speaks very highly of you and your skills on the blog. It’s very nice to meet you.” Turning her steely gaze on Mycroft she raised a brow slightly in a subtle challenge.

‘My Lady,’ he greeted with a bow, his forehead slightly frowned. In this confounding situation, he had decided it was best to follow protocol and act as if nothing had changed.   
’Thank you for your kind invitation. As Her Majesty no doubt informed you, she is unable to attend your niece’s wedding and sends her warmest regards to you and best wishes to the happy couple; I am to act as Her representative today. I must congratulate you on the beauty and neatness of your home, it is most delightful.’    
  
In the corner of his eye, he saw Sherlock place his hand on top of John’s and felt something akin to anticipation in the room. He was confused as to what it could be, besides the wedding.   
‘I feel obliged to say that I was not expecting to see my little brother and his family attend as well although it seems perfectly logical given your relation to John Watson,’ he frowned more deeply, clearly uncomfortable at the idea that John Watson clearly was neither a man of little extended family nor of small means. He was puzzled as to how this information could have escaped the scrutiny he had put him under, time and again, since he moved in with Sherlock eight years ago. Sensing he might have made a blunder, he added ‘Had I known, I would have brought something for my own niece as well as the wedding gifts Her Majesty commanded I bring.’

John nibbled on a biscuit raising it to Mycroft in a toast with a smirk before offering Sherlock the other half. “Great aunt. London keeps me busy. I don’t get to come see Aunt Adelaide as often as I’d like.”   
  
Adelaide smiled warmly at John. “Well it seemed like a very good time to get everyone together for a celebration. Especially now that Harriet is doing much better. And Clara is a dear. Not to mention that I was very eager to meet Rosie. She certainly has some of your personality, John. And Sherlock’s as well. That much is apparent.” John nodded passing a cup of tea to Greg who nodded his thanks watching the whole thing with a bit of surprise.

Mycroft, who was still standing, glanced at Gregory and let escape an undignified gasp of disbelief because, as he saw it, neither Sherlock nor John seemed bothered at all by that information, and the implication behind it.

‘I for one am glad that you decided to invite us. John doesn’t talk of his extended family enough for either Rosie or myself to be familiar with the clan Watson. I’ve read time and again that a child should know about their family and whenever possible, spend time with the different members of their family, as it will play an important role in the building of their personality. I imagine that you wanted us to meet everyone properly before going up North more often, didn’t you?’ he asked John. ‘Although London does have its advantages,’ he continued with his eyes on his brother with a challenging look, ‘I see no reason why we could not come to spend some time here, once in a while. As it is Scotland however,’ he took a sip from a cup of tea, ‘we would need sturdy protection against the rain. I believe the foremost expert on umbrellas is present in the room,’ he concluded in a mocking tone.

This last remark had John arbor a wide smirk, the old Lady wore a discreet judgmental smile on the corner of her lips and even Gregory snickered slightly. Mycroft was destabilised by his brother’s confidence while in the presence of ‘new people’, John’s family as they may be. Not to mention unphased by the knowledge that the person at the head of the clan had regarding Rosie’s parentage. Both men were extremely private and, despite being the one who had informed them of the identity of Rosie’s parents, he had been asked unceremoniously, as only his brother can, to depart, cease and desist any interference and prying into their lives.   
Regardless of being surrounded by family - or soon to be family, anyway - Mycroft did his best to uphold the conventions: he was on duty, representing the Queen. However, ignoring  _ why  _ Her Majesty had been invited here, had regretfully declined  _ and _ sent a representative in Her stead, thus implying that She really did regret not being able to attend and that these were not empty words as politicians are fond of saying…   
‘If I may be so bold, my Lady, might I enquire the reason as to your invitation to Her Majesty? I confess I am quite perplexed.’

Adelaide smiled primly. “Why, old friends should be there for important events in the lives of their children and grandchildren. She knows I’ve always been especially fond of John and Harriet. Elizabeth and I grew up together, you see. We’re not terribly far from Balmoral. We also served together during the War. I wanted to at least extend the invitation even if I doubted she could attend. I’m rather touched she thought to send you along. And how is your dear mother? I’m certain Rosie quite enjoyed her first visit to your parents' lovely home.” She sipped her tea still watching Mycroft intently.    
  
Greg eased himself into a seat watching the verbal game of chess with fascination. It wasn’t every day that he got to see someone get the upper hand on Mycroft. Much less a little old lady who seemed to have wits to easily match Sherlock and Mycroft. He looked over at John trying to put all the pieces together. 

'...You know Mother as well?' Mycroft sputtered, visibly thrown aback. 

'Here's an exceedingly rare sight,' Sherlock commented. 'Mycroft Holmes' acumen reduced to smithereens. There clearly are things that others know that you don't,' he told him smugly, adopting a more comfortable posture on the sofa he was sharing with John, though not reclining. He did  _ sometimes _ have some modicum of decency.    
  
John chuckled softly and settled back comfortably on the sofa. There was no need for him to be proper and uncomfortable. After all, this place had been a second home when he was younger. “Mmmm someone has information that Mycroft didn’t have. Imagine such a thing.”   
  
Adelaide smiled nodding. “Oh, yes. She was a brilliant maths student. Brilliant at everything she set her mind to, really. Violet was one of my favourite students at university. Quite a small world, isn’t it? Your mother and I did encourage John and Sherlock to make a go of things. Imagine our delight when we figured out that my John was sharing a flat with your brother. You’ve done quite well for yourself. I just had a feeling that Violet’s oldest would be perfect for a government position.”   
  
Greg sipped his tea sputtering a laugh at the words revealed as he drank. Looking over at John and Sherlock he shook his head. “Why do I feel like you two have something to do with this?"

Sherlock turned to Greg, giving him a look of absolute innocence. John and he were not as involved as Greg was implying. 

'Really, Greg. Who do you take us for? Let me rephrase that. Who do you take John for?' he asked innocently. 'You are a detective, surely you've deduced Mycroft's… gaps in his information were not due to anything either of us did. As for his being uncomfortable…' he trailed off, dusting invisible crumbs off his trousers. 

“You’re enjoying every second of this.” He shook his head with the hint of a smile. “You really shouldn’t enjoy seeing Mycroft so uncomfortable. And, John, when were you going to let any of us know you came from this?” He waved a hand around the room.   
  
John shrugged. “It’s not me. I’m just related to someone who it all belongs to. Harry and I may be her favourite but that doesn’t mean that any of it is mine or ever will be. Even here it doesn’t mean that much. I’m just part of the clan like everyone else in the family.”   
  
Adelaide smiled at Mycroft. “Why don’t you have a seat and I will do what I can to help clear up your confusion. It was very nice of you to come all this way, along with the Detective Inspector. I’ve heard a great deal about him from John over the years.” 

She took another small dig at Mycroft’s ego. “While I applaud you wishing to make certain your little brother wasn’t getting into trouble, I do not think kidnapping people and arranging for clandestine meetings in out of the way places is quite the way to go about things. Certainly not for someone like John.” Passing him a cup of tea with a biscuit she glanced over at Greg who was sputtering into his own tea.

After he'd sat down on a comfortable, plush armchair, Mycroft wordlessly took the tartan cup she was handing him, chastised as he was by Lady Agatha's admonition as to his past behaviour. 

'How could I refuse my Queen?' he wondered. 'Although I was not at all expecting to see my brother or his partner here, nor the various quips and taunts I am used to receiving from him, I am glad I came and met John's family.'

Bringing the delicate china to his lips, he noticed there was writing on the saucer and assumed it was some innocuous inscription. However, as he slightly pushed the saucer aside when he brought the cup to his mouth, he could distinctly read the word 'Bitch': this was not at all the innocuous mark he had thought nor could it be referencing a female dog. His facial muscles tensed. He might have been too hasty in telling his hostess that it was a pleasure to have made her acquaintance. He glanced at Greg, caught his eye and turned the saucer, discreetly but in such a way that he could read it as well.

He didn't voice the umbrage he felt at the insult, still unsure as to what the proper way to act in this situation was. Yet again, he found himself speechless. Surely Sherlock had not been planning on his presence and purchased such a cup in advance. However, he loathed to imagine that little old lady in possession of such an item. Yes, older people were just as capable of disruption and disrespect as younger ones but never in a million years would he have expected Her Majesty to be friends with anyone who was cunning or cheeky. 

The coincidence that John was related to her was non-existent and explained quite a few things, starting with the brazenness of their personalities.    
  
Greg glanced at Mycroft’s cup with a snort showing him his own cup as a one up. The whole thing was turning out much funnier than he’d imagined. There was absolutely no question where John got his cheek and sass. At least the trip was going to be a lot more entertaining than he’d originally thought. Giving Mycroft a sly grin he nodded at his cup raising one eyebrow slightly. That was the point of a ‘vacation’, wasn’t it? To relax? Well, he was going to make sure that Mycroft relaxed and enjoyed himself a bit. Even if all of John’s cousins would without a doubt be overwhelming, he was equally sure they’d be as warm and welcoming as John was.

'Quips and taunting? Hardly. Merely true statements on your personality and habits. It is, as you often made me aware, never agreeable to be faced with one's shortcomings, after all,' Sherlock defended himself. 'I cannot however commend your appreciation of John's family more. As I've told you before, he  _ is _ family and should be treated as such,' he said fiercely. 

'I am sure even you are aware that certain forms are necessary for people to form a family.  _ Sentiment _ and some documents giving both parties legal rights on a child are not sufficient by any means to be considered binding in any way,' he retorted, his composure cracked. 

Sherlock threw him an icy glare. 

'Apologise,' Sherlock demanded in a cold, austere voice hiding the fire of his righteous wrath provoked by his brother's words. 

Aware that he'd gone a step too far once again, Mycroft bowed his head and put his cup back in its saucer. 

'I am sorry. I didn't mean any of this. Of course John is family. How could he not be? He's Rosie's father as much as you are and has been beside you through the worst of your ailings. I apologise,' he said in a repentant tone.

'His tea should remain bitter,' Sherlock replied. 'Excuse me for a moment,' he said as he sat up to go in search of a small, empty room where he could collect himself. Mycroft's words had cut him immensely - and given him much to ponder on, although he doubted the first intention behind his outburst was to make his little brother consider new, official angles with regards to John and his relationship.    
  
John sighed glancing at Adelaide as if to say ‘And now you see why I don’t like dealing with Mycroft’. 

Adelaide smiled. “Sherlock, if you would be a dear and see how dinner is coming along. I assume Rosie doesn’t have any allergies and isn’t a terribly picky eater, but you might speak with Moira about the plans for dinner. There are always a variety of choices so I’m certain Rosie will find something she likes to eat. The children and Moira are likely back from visiting the cows now and I’m certain she’ll be very excited to tell you all about them. We’ll just have a bit of a chat and finish our tea while you’re gone.” She fixed Mycroft with a look that clearly meant he was to stay where he was and to keep his mouth shut.   
  
“Richard Jack Mycroft Holmes. While I can see you are trying, you need to be a bit more aware of how your words come out. From what I have heard and everything I have seen, your brother has made immense progress in a very short amount of time. In no small thanks to your dashing Inspector and John. I believe it’s high time you stopped seeing him as the screw up little brother and start seeing him as a wonderfully smart, kind, caring man who has an exceptional family. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” She smiled at Greg. “Would you like to see baby pictures? I have a number of pictures of Mycroft that Violet sent me. When he was Rosie’s age, he was quite the exhibitionist. Poor Violet could hardly keep clothes on him for more than five minutes.”   
  
Greg snickered giving Mycroft an apologetic glance. “I would love to see the pictures since you’re offering.”

***

Sherlock had gladly used Adelaide's errand as an excuse to collect himself. Being active always helped in calming his mind as well as his feelings and acting so quickly might have been the very reason why he pulled himself together before an actual panic attack crept up on him. 

When he returned to the parlour, while Adelaide and John were talking rather animatedly of a subject or other, Mycroft was still sitting in awkward silence while Greg was busy enjoying pictures. Presumably shared by Adelaide and showing Mycroft in embarrassing situations. 

Given that he already was a proper little boy  _ well, not so little if we consider the broadness of his waist _ when Sherlock was not more than four years old, these pictures must have been when Mycroft still was a young child. Possibly of Rosie's age. 

John glanced up from peering at the pictures with Greg smiling warmly at Sherlock. “How is Rosie getting along with her cousins? I saw she was the leader of the pack when they went running outside.” He reached for Sherlock’s hand, squeezing it gently. 

Sherlock nodded his thanks for John's sollicitude before telling him that Rosie was already commanding and issuing orders just like her father but that didn't make her unloved because her cousins or maybe subjects were in complete awe of her. John chuckled. 

“Auntie gave us the old nursery quarters that adjoins Rosie’s room so we’re close. The rest of the family is scattered throughout the house. Greg and Mycroft have a nice set of rooms in the east wing. We’ve got a lovely view of the hills and a sliver of the loch. And we’re not terribly far from Harry who isn’t panicking yet.”

'That's good,' Sherlock commented. 'Rosie is bound to have trouble sleeping in an unknown place, regardless of how much she enjoys being there. Yes,' he agreed before John could formulate a proposition. 'It would be a very good idea that she get used to this place. Wouldn't you enjoy coming back here once in a while and 'get London out of your lungs'? Besides,' he reflected, 'the countryside can hold more mysteries and murders than the city.'    
  
Greg watched John and Sherlock with a smile. “They’re really making it work. Every time I think Sherlock’s changed as much as possible from the skinny kid I first met, he completely surprises me. John’s aunt seems to have taken a liking to him. Quite the lady, that one. Tough as they come. I have to admire her sense of humour. Wonder if I’d get in trouble with the higher ups if I used those cups at a meeting.” It was a gentle reprimand but enough to get the message across. If Sherlock could change so much, then Mycroft could too. “I know Rosie will be excited to see you. I think she was too occupied earlier to notice we were here.”

'John's aunt does have a peculiar sense of humour, yes. I still am having some trouble with it, especially in one so venerable, but it seems to run in the family. John has quite the irreverent mind as well. It comes as no surprise that she has taken a liking to Sherlock: he is her favourite nephew's lifelong partner, after all,' he added in a somewhat penitent voice as he tried to make amends for the harsh words he had spoken before and that were still echoing in his head. 

'Do you want me to ask that you get special dispensation for insulting colleagues? If they have the same lack of humour as I have,' he added, letting Greg know that he had received the message. 'Only for these meetings you mention, otherwise I'm afraid you would have to deal with your officers and sergeants' ire. I would hate seeing you go through the same sort of ordeal your last Chief Superintendent went through, and I'm afraid that, even though I could and  _ would _ do something about it, your reputation would most likely suffer the consequences,' he commented with a regretful sigh. 

The group of the clan's children came bursting in through the door, demanding stories from Adelaide or, as they called her, Ada. 

Mycroft turned towards Greg and caught his eye. 

'I think she is still too occupied to notice either of us,' he remarked with a fond smile on his lips. 'When she has calmed down and noticed our presence, I imagine she'll leap with joy while I will do it internally.' 

Rosie bounced into the room trailed by nearly a dozen children ranging from about her age to teenagers, all chattering excitedly. Most of them were a bit in awe of John and even more of Sherlock.    
  
Spotting Mycroft and Greg she made a beeline to them for hugs. “Uncle Gweg! Uncle Mycrotoft! You cames for Auntie Harry’s weddingses?! Auntie Ada gonna tell us stories. I wented to see cows with cousinses and Sultan! They shaggy and floofy!!” She giggled bouncing excitedly. John laughed softly. “Rosie, sweetheart, come sit over here. Auntie has some of the best stories. You’ll love them.” Picking her up to settle her in his lap he kissed her cheek earning a giggle.   
  
Mycroft and Greg shared a look. When children are excited about something, nothing else seems to matter to them, does it? Mycroft sighed discreetly, he would have enjoyed Rosie’s shiny disposition after his terrible blunder, which thankfully she had no idea about.   
He really had been too far, for no reason other than his being uncomfortable at not being in control. His mother, his father was right, Gregory was right. John was right. Sherlock  _ had  _ grown up and become responsible; it was high time that he stop seeing him as the black sheep of the family, the little brother who caused trouble and whose sole goal seemed to attract more trouble - for everyone, himself included.   
It wasn’t too late for him to settle on this for the New Year’s resolution. This is one he would most definitely keep, unlike all the nonsense of quitting smoking, having a healthy diet or exercising… Yes, this new year shall see him put family first. In all senses of the word: grow as a lover, a brother, an uncle and be more tolerant of his loved ones’ shortcomings as well as aware of his own - to work on them.   
It seemed a rather ambitious programme but nothing was impossible to a valiant heart and his would certainly be very valiant indeed.   
  
Sherlock had come closer to John and Rosie, sitting next to them and had set an arm around them while the young audience was transfixed by Lady Adelaide’s stories about magical creatures like the faeries, the Kelpies, the leprechaun or even the merfolk and Nessie that were said to have been seen living in the Lochs.   
As she finished the last one, about faeries and destiny, Sherlock let a handful of seconds pass before entreating them all to go to sleep for the next day was going to be exhausting. Everyone needed to have energy, and the tales and stories that Lady Adelaide had told them would help them sleep through the night and wake with enough vivacity to go through the day.    
‘It would be a trial, for some of you,’ he declared, ‘but I know that you can be victorious. Go and rest, sleep well to be prepared for tomorrow, fiery little heroes!’ he told them in a sure tone of voice as he stood up to take his daughter to bed. ‘No one gets special treatment,’ he added. ‘This is very serious, and you’re already falling asleep,’ he finished in a softer voice, a smile on his face as he took her in his arms, and after having wished a good night to Lady Adelaide, exited the room with John walking next to him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Binding Family Ties

John held on to a wiggling Rosie as he tried somewhat in vain to sweep her curls into anything resembling a ‘style’ instead of just a mop of golden curls falling into her eyes.   
“Hold on, Rosie bee. Daddy’s trying to get your hair fixed.”   
Holding a hair tie in his mouth, he quickly fashioned pigtails and nodded at his effort. They weren’t quite even, but it would do for now. Kissing her cheek he tickled her.   
“There now, all set. You and Sultan go get started on breakfast with Papa. I’ll get dressed and be down in just a minute.”   
Giving her a gentle push in Sherlock’s direction he smiled. “Good luck. I know she’s excited to see all her cousins again. I think someone was planning a game of hide and seek. Plenty of good hiding places in the house. I’ll be down in five, ten minutes tops.”   
He looked Sherlock over admiring him in ‘casual’ wear made of dark jeans and a button-down shirt that made his eyes stand out even more. Stealing a kiss he smiled. “Have I told you how handsome you look this morning?”  
  


Sherlock smirked. ‘Not yet, no. Certainly not properly,’ he winked, extending his hand to Rosie so they’d go to the dining room to have breakfast. ‘Don’t take too long,’ he said and walked through the door, Sultan trotting up next to Rosie and him, and they went down the stairs.   
Sherlock had no idea where anything was or if there would be anyone downstairs at this hour to help him out. He decided he would advise if confronted to the situation, and reflected that a nice, long walk with John and Rosie would be ideal to pass the time, and connect more to each other while calming their nerves. He had no idea what state of mind either of the brides were in, but if his own was slowly growing apprehensive, he could only imagine theirs were a thousand times worse.

The kitchen was a hive of activity with children running about, adults chatting and eating, dogs underfoot, and the general barely organised chaos of a large family gathering. Platters of food filled the main table as well as several sideboards.   
Rosie took in the chaos with only a small amount of apprehension as Sultan eagerly went to scour for dropped bits of anything good to eat. A slender woman with dark brown hair smiled.   
  
“You must be Sherlock. I’m Moira. Mac’s other half.”   
  
“Aye, she’s definitely my BETTER half!” Mac exclaimed kissing her cheek and smiling warmly at Rosie. Rolling her eyes Moira shooed Mac off.   
  
“Get Rosie settled and see that Sultan has a bit of breakfast.”   
  
Grinning he carefully picked Rosie up. “Now then little lady, you’ll have yourself a good Scottish breakfast.”   
  
Patting Sherlock’s arm Moira smiled. “She’s safe as can be with him. Tea? It’s so nice to finally meet the man who stole John’s heart. We all couldn’t be happier that things are working out for him.” Looking around she lowered her voice. “I won’t speak ill of the dead, but no one really cared for that wife of his, you know. She once called me and gave me QUITE the talking to for texting John for a medical opinion about one of the wee ones. Accused me of trying to steal him.” She sniffed in a way that was reminding of John, and shook her head. “I’m quite happy with Mac and I’ve known John and Harry since we were Rosie’s age. The thought never crossed my mind.”   
  
‘Why not? She’s well beyond caring, now. If she ever did,’ he added in a lower tone, not quite under his breath. ‘Yes, she was quite the possessive and controlling one,’ he added, reminiscing of everything she did to undermine John’s happiness and freedom, starting with the name _she_ had chosen to give their child.   
‘I should say that I am relieved the thought of stealing John never crossed your mind,’ he continued in a mock-relieved tone, ‘and I daresay he seems to be happy with me having effectively stolen and saved him from Mary’s clutches,’ he finished, accepting the tea she was offering him. ‘Is there anything planned for the morning to keep the guests out of the brides’ way?’ he enquired.

“Nothing formal.” She shook her head with a smile. “You’re more than welcome to take the little lass for a walk. The cows and sheep will all be quite eager to have a new friend see them. Most everyone will eventually end up at the pub to get a head start on celebrating. Plenty of music, as always. We can always use another musician if you’re willing. I’ve never seen John look at anyone the way he looks at you. And Rosie. You two are a welcome addition to the clan.”  
  
‘Thank you. Having a walk with Rosie and John was precisely what I was hoping for. In combination with a hearty breakfast and excellent tea, it will be the exact activity we’ll need to tackle the day ahead,’ he answered a small, slightly anxious smile on his lips: the last wedding he had been to had not resulted in happiness ever after. He took a sip of tea to mask his discomfort. ‘As for starting the celebrations early… while I dislike the expression - you can’t start celebrating something that has not happened yet, you see - I assume John is welcome as well, and in that case, I too will partake in this musical gathering,’ he rambled.  
  
Moira laughed softly with a warm smile. “Of course he’s welcome. He has high praise for your skill on the violin. I’m certain you’ll be able to join in with little trouble. Most of the tunes have a simple base with plenty of room for interpretation and flourishes. That is if you think you can keep up with the fiddle players using your fancy violin,” she teased him good-naturedly with a grin resulting in Sherlock rolling her eyes at her.  
  
‘Of course, I can,’ he retorted faking affront.

  
Rosie was happily sitting with several of her cousins picking up new words for things in Scottish while eating a bowl of porridge drizzled with honey and pieces of fruit on top obviously savouring the sweet treat. Mac sat nearby keeping an eye on the group and slipping bits of crispy bacon to Sultan and several of the other dogs that roamed the kitchen. Spotting John come down the back stairs she waved her spoon at him. 

“Hi Daddy! You’s wearins a kilt!!”   
  
Kissing the top of her head John smiled. “Hello princess. I certainly am and I see you’re enjoying your porridge. Good. Eat it all up so you can be as big and strong as Mac,” he teased her before making his way over to Sherlock. 

“Good, Moira set you up with a cup of tea. Have you eaten yet? Rosie’s halfway through her bowl of porridge. I think it’s mostly honey with a little bit of fruit and a drop of porridge, but still,” he shrugged with a chuckle. Looking up at Sherlock who hadn’t said a word he touched his arm lightly. “Sherlock? You ok?”  
  


Goosebumps crept on Sherlock’s arm as John touched him to get his attention, but his brain was still stuck on the breath-taking vision of John. He was staring into space where he had last seen John and his breathing had considerably diminished, so much so that it seemed that Sherlock had stopped breathing.   
The people around him were all functioning normally, even if Moira was eyeing him somewhat curiously and Rosie had looked up to observe her Papa carefully.

He didn’t move, or answer.

Sultan made his way over to Sherlock and sat at his feet. Shaking his head with a snort he braced his front paws on Sherlock’s leg pressing his cold nose into Sherlock’s hand with a sloppy lick before gently nibbling on his fingers.  
  
Rosie giggled gently tugging on Sherlock’s hand. “Papa, look! Daddy wearins his kilt.” 

John ruffled her hair. “And we’ll get you one too. I bet there’s one around here that would be just your size.” Moira sipped her tea to hide a smile. “I'm just as certain we can find Sherlock one that would fit him. I think he’d look very handsome in the Watson clan colours. It’d serve to bring out his eyes.” John rolled his eyes with a smile. “Oi, back off, Moira. He’s mine. You’ve got your hands full with Mac.”

Sherlock felt a tickling sensation in his fingers and blinked, slowly reconnecting his senses to the reality around him and to the strength of John’s presence, manifested only by the touch of his hand on Sherlock’s arm though it was.

‘John,’ he smiled. ‘I… missed something, haven’t I?’ he asked in a very soft voice. 'Sorry,' he added, squeezing John's hand before quickly adding in a somewhat sultry tone, his voice low so only John could hear him, 'although I am _not_ sorry to see you in that attire.'

He had not pitched his voice low enough, however, as a grin formed on Moira's face. 

  
John smirked. “Glad you’re back with us. Much longer and Rosie would have started getting worried. You know, we really should get you a kilt as well. You’d look dashing in one. I see Moira got you a cup of tea. Have you actually eaten anything? As you can see, there’s enough food to feed a small army for a week.”   
  


Moira smirked. “Yes, there are some very good sausages that you must try. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.”   
  


John snorted a laugh. “Moira, you’re positively wicked.”

'Mh, no, I haven't eaten, no. I'm not one to forego breakfast - well, not anymore. My stomach is rather tied up in knots at the moment, but I figure that I'll need energy when we go on a hike later on. I'll gladly take John's… request to heart,' he replied, throwing John a wink. 'I've never tried on a kilt before,' he confessed, 'but if I look even half as… delectable as you do…' he trailed off; Moira clearing her throat brought him back before he started staring into space once more. 

John chuckled keeping his hand lightly on Sherlock’s arm and guiding him to a vacant seat in a quieter corner of the chaos. 

“You need to try the honey. I think you’ll like it. It’s not as sweet as what we normally have. It’s got a deeper flavour from the clover and heather.” 

Watching Rosie play with her cousins he smiled lightly resting his hand on Sherlock’s knee. Glancing up at Sherlock who was studying him intently. “What is it? Come on, I’m sure just seeing me in a kilt isn’t that interesting. You see me in my robe all the time and see just as much of my legs then,” he teased gently.

Sherlock looked John up and down, pausing at his crotch. 'Are you wearing any pants?' he asked, not bothering to lower his voice.   
  
John smirked leaning back against the wall and nibbling on several strips of bacon sandwiched between thick slices of homemade bread. “Noooo.”   
He glanced at Sherlock with a smirk, their roles from the time they’d been at Buckingham Palace switched. Their dissolving into giggles, however, was the same. 

“Traditional, you know, not to wear pants underneath. Now, I might put some on for the wedding just in case something happens, but right now, nope.”   
  


'I would say "what could happen at a wedding?" but given our history… Apart from Mycroft and myself, I don't think anyone in your family has ever received death threats, so the risk of something happening that would necessitate you to keep your private parts relatively safe is _extremely _close to zero. Please don't wear pants,' he concluded, his tone of the utmost seriousness.   
  
John chuckled. “Sherlock, love, we’re dealing with a toddler who we’re frequently picking up or chasing after and you’ve met Mac. Not to mention Auntie. There’s no telling me what might happen. But I will consider your request. Very seriously.” He kissed his cheek.   
  


'Thank you.'  
  


“Try some of the honey.” He swiped a bit off a piece of toast holding his finger up to Sherlock with a teasing smirk.  
  


Without hesitating Sherlock licked the drizzle of honey off John's finger before putting it in his mouth. 'Honey is sticky,' he justified, a not-so-innocent look on his face. 'Yes, I do like it. Not as sweet as the one I'm used to. I will have some more,' he said before taking a greasy sausage and dipping it in the small pot of honey on their table. He tasted it in much the same way he had just done on John's finger, his eyes locked on John's. 'Exquisite,' he concluded. 'Do you want to try this combination?'  
  
“Mmmm sweet, salty, spicey, I believe that sums you up rather well,” he teased before slowly stripping the honey off the sausage with his lips. “Good. Very good. I think I like it. We should take some of the honey home with us. I’m sure it’ll go very well in tea, on scones, on plenty of other things…”  
  


Sherlock choked on his tea. He clearly was not as immune to John's blatant sexual invitation as he'd thought. The lack of undergarments under John's kilt was most likely having a role on Sherlock's heightened receptiveness. 

'My stress level has decreased dramatically,' he announced and in reply to John's smug face, added, 'another hormone is increasing terribly fast, resulting in some discomfort. I should need a kilt, too. As well as honey when we come home. Possibly before that. It is really windy outside,' he added as a way of explanation. 

John snorted a laugh, taking more than a bit of enjoyment in teasing Sherlock. He’d had no idea just wearing a kilt would affect his detective so much. 

“Yes, very windy. A chill wind can certainly irritate the throat and lungs. Honey is so good at soothing a sore throat or cough. Oh, we’re definitely getting you a kilt. The Holmes tartan is very similar to the Watson tartan. Colours are the same. Only real difference is the placement and width of the lines of different colours. We should get Rosie one that’s both put together. And I’m sure she’ll want something for Sultan, too. I’ll make sure we get home with plenty of honey. It’ll be put to good use.”  
  
'I should think it will, yes,' Sherlock agreed, imagined scenarios of said good use dancing in his mind's eye. 'However,' he continued, 'I doubt we'd have time enough to buy both Rosie and myself kilts today. I know there are a variety of mandatory accessories. We would need some time, and I am certain Rosie - as well as you and I - would benefit from a hike before the wedding this afternoon,' he added before taking a sip of tea and watching Rosie challenging her cousins for a race. 'Case in point.'

John laughed. “Mm I’m sure we could manage. There’s a very fine kilt shop in Edinburgh. I know the owner keeps most of the clan tartans in stock. Especially with a wedding coming up, I’m pretty certain he’d have plenty of the Watson tartan. And if we let him know, I’m sure he could come up with enough of the Holmes tartan to mix the two for a small Rosie-sized kilt. And maybe something Sultan-sized too. But, yes, for now I think a walk would be good. Rosie will enjoy herself meeting more cows and sheep.”   
  


'You say I'm a privileged snob,' Sherlock chuckled, 'but you, dear, have fanciful ideas for someone so caring and practical,' he continued, shaking his head softly.   
  


Catching Rosie as she ran by John settled her in his lap kissing her cheek and tickling her. “All right, Rosie, how about you and Sultan come on a walk with me and Papa. You’ll get to pet more of the fluffy sheep and shaggy cows. We might even make it as far as the Loch and you can search for Nessie.”   
  


Rosie giggled nodding. “I’m a monser hunner. Make beasties run!”   
  


“That you are, my love. Rosie the Monster Hunter!”  
  


'Ah, but is Nessie a monster or a misunderstood creature who lost its way from its herd and is now alone and different from every other creature around it? As long as you are a hunter who does not kill, Rosie darling, track away,' Sherlock agreed. 'After all, it requires thinking to find what is hidden or lost… Much like detective work,' he added.   
  


Rosie frowned slightly, looking sad at the news of the monster. “Poor Nessie. I give BIG hug. She can be fambly like Sultan an’ Onyx an’ Angus an’ rest of horsies an’ Rudy too!”   
  


John chuckled touched by Rosies generous and loving heart. “And who exactly is Rudy?” 

Sighing she gave him a very Sherlock look. “He my cow, Daddy. I meeted him yesserday. He not big now, but he get big an’ shaggy.”  
  
'If we can walk as far as the Loch _and_ come back on time for the wedding,' Sherlock reminded John. 'I don't think the brides would take it too well not to have a best man,' he carried on, remembering the anguish John was in at his own wedding when Sherlock had had second thoughts with regards to attending. 

'Get your coat and boots, noble explorer, and lead us through the Scottish countryside,' he entreated her.   
  
Scrambling off John’s lap Rosie tugged on Mac’s sleeve to get his help getting her coat and boots. John chuckled as the large man willingly left off eating breakfast to help Rosie.   
“Mac’s always had a soft spot for children. Not surprised Rosie’s already got him wound around her little finger. Makes me feel a little better knowing that if things ever go sideways, she’s got a lot of people ready and willing to step between her and any sort of danger.”  
  
Wearing one of Mac’s much too large for her small head Tam O’ Shanter caps Rosie hurried back to them with Sultan on her heels.   
“We goes now? Mac gaved me his lucky hat.” Grinning she pushed it back out of her eyes. “We goes see Rudy firs’ so you can meet him? Pease?”   
  


John laughed softly adjusting the cap a bit. “Well, I don’t see why not.”

*******

Lying on a firm mattress under a warm eiderdown, ensconced in Gregory's embrace, Mycroft Holmes was still disbelieving of everything he had learnt the day before - that Her Majesty had sent him as a representative to a wedding: that of Harry Watson, sister to John Watson, his own brother's partner and father to his niece. What had come as an even greater surprise was that She was an intimate friend of _their_ aunt who was hosting the wedding party. 

The only constant was the man with whom he was sharing the bed. 

He trailed his hand and fingers up and down Gregory's arm, savouring the embrace and the feel of him as well as attempting to wake him softly, tenderly from his slumber. 

However, he might have already been awake for in answer to his caresses he could feel Gregory's interest cautiously prodding against his backside, as if timidly asking whether desire of sexual intimacy was reciprocated. He pushed back against Gregory with a soft exhale, close to a moan, to let him know that he was very much welcoming the activity silently asked. 

**   
**Greg huffed softly nuzzling his nose into Mycroft’s slightly sleep-rumpled hair. “Mycroft, I swear if you try and get me out of this incredibly warm, comfortable bed on a day off work when I can sleep in, I will murder you myself,” he teased him gently. 

It wasn’t often that they both had a long, lazy morning to wake up and get moving at their leisure. “However, I _could_ be tempted to stay in bed if staying in bed means a nice leisurely shag. Or a not so leisurely. Whatever happens.”   
  


'Leisurely? Gregory dear, I might not be the easiest person to understand, but surely you know by now that leisure is not my forte,' he replied in a gravelly voice laced with irony. 'I can and _do _see the appeal to it,' he added caressing Gregory's leg with his own.   
  


Laughing softly Greg lightly ran his hand down Mycroft’s chest and toned stomach as he trailed light kisses along his neck and shoulder. 

“So, what are we feeling like this morning? Taking our time or enjoying the fact that most everyone else is already downstairs and there’s no real need for us to be quiet or discreet?” He smirked rubbing against Mycroft teasingly. “Because at this point both sound equally incredible. I’m thinking we should take more time off. A long weekend a month. A very long weekend. Out of town someplace. Someplace where we can relax and enjoy.”   
  


Stretching and pushing his body closer to Gregory's as a result to his caressing hand, Mycroft sighed deeply, turning his head to the side so Gregory would have more skin to press his lips to. 

'Given that we rarely have the opportunity to "let go'' as you once said, the answer is quite obvious, is it not?' he answered his voice going a tone deeper, easier to do after no use from sleeping.**   
  
**Greg snickered holding Mycroft’s hip in place as he leisurely rocked against him. “Mm since we have the time...” he smirked teasing him. “I suppose I could be persuaded to have a late breakfast if I was tempted with something else... Or someone else. Especially if that someone else is willing to give consideration to my suggestion of a long weekend a month, barring emergencies, to indulge ourselves however we want.”  
  


'Persuaded… I'm not certain it's the proper word, but I will take your suggestion into deep consideration provided you reflect on mine,' he groaned. 'It is not, after all, in _my_ habits to propose we forego breakfast for something _infinitely _more appetising,' he finished, his hands claiming Gregory's bottom to make his point.   
**  
**Greg pulled him closer nibbling teasingly along his neck nipping at the tender skin and leaving red marks that might just peek out from Mycroft’s collar. And if they did, so be it. Mycroft was his and he didn’t care who knew it. 

“Well, if you’re really that eager to have breakfast as opposed to lingering in a warm bed, that’s your choice.'   
  


Mycroft choked off a protest. He had only just told Gregory that he was extremely interested in physical intimacy. That he would disregard his preference was… Oh, of course. He had been teasing him. 

_These lovebites will show_, he thought at the back of his mind, enjoying the feeling of small burns on his skin, and relishing their meaning.   
  


'I was planning on making the most of the morning since the house is emptying out. And you’re wearing far too much clothing for what I was planning.” 

Grinning he gave the waistband of Mycroft’s pyjama’s a teasing snap before stroking him slowly. 

“Mm if I didn’t know better I’d think at least part of you is much more interested in staying in bed. You are so tempting.”  
  


Mycroft groaned along with Gregory's stroking. 'Yes, of course, Gregory. How could I _not_ be? Staying in bed with you is infinitely superlative to anything else. I… must also say… How eager I am to know what exactly… you have in mind. I have a broad… generic idea… however knowing you it is anything but,' Mycroft started panting softly as he bucked against Gregory.**   
  
**“Mm well I was thinking I’d take you apart nice and slow until you’re completely relaxed and then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for a week," he growled in Mycroft’s ear stroking him slowly and squeezing lightly. 

He didn’t expect Mycroft to make any trouble at the wedding, but if he could manage to knock his brain off line for a bit then maybe he’d listen to reason about giving Sherlock a chance and see him differently. 

“Does that sound like a good plan? It should take us some time. Nearly until lunch. Just enough time to get dressed and grab a bite to eat before the ceremony.” 

Bucking under Gregory's tender ministrations and soft torture, Mycroft began panting in earnest, one of his hands firmly holding onto Gregory's active forearm and the other gripping the sheet under him. He made an undignified sound - some would call it a _squeal_ \- as Gregory squeezed him again, and groaned as his caresses went down Mycroft's erect shaft. 

'It most definitely… sounds like an… excellent plan. Against propriety, too… Do you really plan on ruining me so?' he added in a moan that let his eagerness transpire. 

“Every bloody chance I get.” Greg smirked happily sucking a mark just above Mycroft’s collarbone. One that wouldn’t show, but that Mycroft would feel every time he turned his head and his shirt rubbed against it.

“Mm seems someone’s _very_ eager this morning,” he murmured stroking and teasing Mycroft slowly. “Wouldn’t this be wonderful, something to look forward to? A couple of days a month for us to relax and indulge. No phones, no calls, no texts, no emails, just us and all the time in the world. I’m sure with advance notice Anthea could arrange your schedule to allow it. I know I’d be much more relaxed after a long weekend. And you would be too. And if we’re both more relaxed, think how much more pleasant things will be,” Greg rumbled as he stroked him firmly.  
  


'Are… Are you trying to… tell me I am not… Present enough?' he managed between breaths. 'I cannot… deal with it immediately…, but after this wedding, I promise… I will give it deep… consideration,' he moaned. 'I confess the thought of… Relaxing with you is… Very appealing,' he groaned as he pressed his body against Gregory's, throwing his head back, a silent request for more kisses and bites on his neck.**   
  
**“There’s my good love,” Greg praised. “That’s all you have to do, give it some very _deep_ consideration. Didn’t expect you to deal with it right this second. Once we get back we’ll have a nice chat with Anthea and set your schedule. And who are my superiors to question when I take a long weekend with ‘The Government’?” he snickered at the new pet name he’d given to one of his favourite parts of Mycroft. Stroking him firmly with light squeezes and a slight twist of his wrist Greg propped himself up slightly to take full advantage of watching Mycroft. He really was beautiful when he let himself go and stopped thinking for a while.

Mycroft groaned as he let his head fall backwards some more, closing his eyes as jolts of pleasure came through him under Gregory's firm ministrations, his right hand still clutching the sheets under him. He felt Gregory's eyes on him and kept on marvelling on his good fortune to have found such a wonderful and magnificent companion who made him want to be a better person. **  
  
**Greg nuzzled Mycroft’s slightly scruffy cheek lightly with a smirk. “Mm now if only we had the time for this every morning. Something to look forward to when you retire. Because you will, eventually, someday. Not that we’ll ever settle down enough to be boring because you, my love, could never be boring,” he kept his voice a low purr stroking slowly. 

'Yes… That would… That would be… Most excellent,' Mycroft agreed as he started to lose touch with reality and sensations started to take centre stage on his list of priorities. The hand on Gregory's forearm moving to his muscled stomach and further down as Mycroft exhaled a sigh of pleasure under Gregory's hand and his legs moved apart. 

“Mm see I come up with all sorts of _very_ good ideas when I’m allowed,” he teased with a nip to Mycroft’s ear and a slow, teasing lick along his neck. “Mm you’re nice and relaxed for me now, aren’t you? Won’t take much at all before you’re ready for me to sink into you, will it…? Not much at all.” 

With a devilish smirk he let his fingers brush ever so lightly across Mycroft’s opening in a teasing caress. “Hm now, where did I put the lube? A _very_ good question, indeed. I do hope I didn’t forget to pack it,” he teased. “We might just have to get creative…”

Mycroft let a strangled moan escaping his lips as Gregory brushed against his entrance and his legs moved further apart still while his hand closed on Gregory's throbbing penis in a tight fist. 

'Gregory…' he started uttering in a plaintive, begging voice before he trailed off, visibly already incapable of formulating a proper sentence - or having lost the words he wanted to say. **  
  
**“Mm I’m a bad, rude man, aren’t I?” he teased with a nip along Mycroft’s neck. “I’m sure I can find it if I put my mind to it.” 

Reaching over to the small bedside table he found the small bottle. “Mm there it is. Didn’t forget it after all.” 

Fumbling one-handed to open the cap and coat his fingers he muttered a curse and tossed the bottle to a corner of the room. It would have to be enough. He was getting more impatient for Mycroft by the moment. Hopefully he’d be relaxed enough that it wouldn’t take much prep and Greg could sink into him sooner rather than later.   
“You’re so handsome like this. Scotland agrees with you.” Smiling softly he nudged Mycroft’s nose before kissing him slowly. The midmorning light brought out the auburn and gold glints to his hair and made the faint dusting of freckles across his cheeks a bit more obvious. 

“Handsome,” Greg murmured again carefully easing one finger into Mycroft who let out of groan of pleasure swiftly after tensing against the intrusion.   
  


'I want… More,' he husked as he rocked against the single digit. 'Not enough…' he added, flimsily stroking Gregory.   
  
“Oh I know you do. Just a bit more, love.” He slipped a second finger into him slowly working him open carefully. “Almost there, love.” Greg promised softly. “You’re doing so well for me. Staying nice and relaxed. Going to make you feel so good.”  
  


'You… Already are…' whispered Mycroft in a strangled voice, sweat slowly forming on his lower back**.   
  
**

Kissing Mycroft slowly Greg twisted his fingers, opening him more.   
“Love how you feel,” he husked pressing into Mycroft’s touch with a groan of pleasure.   
  


Mycroft arched his back, pressing down forcefully, seeking out more sensations from Gregory's fingers. 

'More…' he said in a tight voice.   
  
Greg chuckled shifting to kiss him slowly. “Mm perfect. Just perfect. Nice and relaxed for me.” 

Carefully withdrawing his fingers he kissed along Mycroft’s jaw as he pushed into him slowly. “Always feel so good…,” he husked rolling his hips slowly as Mycroft let out a loud sigh of rapture and relieved pleasure.   
  
'At last,' he murmured with contentment, '... Can feel the whole of you…' 

While turning his head slowly to meet Gregory's lips, he grasped his lover's hip, digging his fingers in the flesh as he pulled him closer.

**  
**Greg huffed a laugh nuzzling and kissing along Mycroft’s neck. “Mm… I’m sure that’s a compliment... Seems like it’s been too long since we had time to enjoy each other. And I plan on enjoying every bit of you. _Very_ thoroughly. Very,” he husked nipping his ear.   
“Come on now, on your stomach for me.”   
Guiding Mycroft’s hips he arranged a few pillows to make him more comfortable. At the moment Greg had a very thin hold on his control. The urge to simply push Mycroft where he wanted him and take what he needed was barely being restrained.  
  


His hands on each side of his head, Mycroft tried to imagine what Gregory had meant by enjoying him very thoroughly. 

Hands settling in a firm grip Greg snapped his hips sharply burying himself completely in one movement.

Mycroft let his pleasure be known rather loudly, despite his surprise at the suddenness of Gregory's assault. He clutched the sheet underneath with both hands and his toes curled as Gregory pushed his legs further apart and started pounding into him. 

Greg smirked nipping along Mycroft’s shoulder with a low growl and a quick twist of his hips. Between the holidays, mountains of paperwork for both of them, a minor crime wave that was below Sherlock’s notice, and petty arguments within the government that required a great deal of handling from Mycroft, they had barely had time for dinner together before falling exhausted into bed. It was high time they had a chance to reconnect. Hands restlessly massaging Mycroft’s hips he shifted him to his knees. 

“I’d hold on to something a bit more substantial, if I were you. You’re going to need it.”  
  


Mycroft heard the words but they did not quite register. He kept holding onto the sheet and grabbed a bit of the mattress underneath: Gregory and he had not tried that position yet, and his interest in sex prior to starting a relationship with Gregory being nil it was not surprising that his knowledge in that area was lacking. Nor that it still was, their relationship being a mere quarter-year old. 

  
Greg smiled slightly swatting Mycroft’s hip to get his attention.   
“Myc, love, there’s a sturdy wood headboard that would be excellent to hold on to. Just focus on me. Got a feeling you’re going to enjoy this. All you have to do is enjoy and move however feels right. That and you can use the headboard to push back against me,” he smirked stroking him firmly and pressing kisses along his shoulders.

Mycroft followed Gregory's advice and took hold of the headboard, his reservations held in check by the warm kisses put to his shoulders. His back ramrod straight and his arms taut with tension, he closed his eyes under the firm stroking and reminded himself that Gregory had entreated him to enjoy himself. Besides, Gregory sounded positive that he would appreciate this new configuration.   
  
He shouldn’t laugh. He really shouldn’t. But as with everything, Mycroft took it with the utmost seriousness. Huffing with a smile Greg nuzzled across Mycroft’s shoulders. 

“Easy now, easy. Remember, you’re supposed to be relaxed and enjoying yourself. Not holding on for dear life like you’re about to fall off a cliff you’re barely holding on to. Relax a little for me. You’ll enjoy this much more if you loosen up and keep relaxed. Because if you’re relaxed you can move with me and back against me and not just endure,” Greg talked him through with logic giving Mycroft time to process. 

“Trust me, ok? Please. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

_Ah. So I'm not doing it correctly. Deep breath in, long breath out… _he encouraged himself to relax his arms so he would not grip the headboard so. 

'I trust you,' he huffed, the idea that he didn't preposterous. They were in a rela… Oh. 

'I'm… reluctant to surrender control, but I _do_ trust you. You said I could… Push back against you?' he asked for confirmation. If he did, then he would not surrender _all _control, some would remain in his possession.   
He held on the headboard more loosely, and Greg put his hand on the small of his back, inviting him to arch his back.

Greg nodded placing a kiss on Mycroft's shoulder. "You can move back against me as much as you want. In fact, I want you to. You can tell me what you like, what's working, the usual," he chuckled softly running his hand along the curve of Mycroft's lower back. 

Giving him a moment to adjust and process Greg kissed along his shoulders rolling his hips slowly to give him a taste of the sensation.

'You are… right, I do enjoy these new… _sensations… _Though unused to the logistics, I…' he trailed off as Gregory increased the pace of his movements and the strength of the feelings grew. He moaned loudly and tried moving back as Gregory had suggested: he let out a low groan.   
  
Greg smirked hands settling on Mycroft’s hips squeezing as he met his move with a firm thrust.   
“Just like that. You’re absolutely perfect. Knew you’d like this. You move as much as you want. This is a give and take. Plus you’ve got the real leverage. We’ll set up a mirror back home so you can watch,” he husked as his hand wrapped around Mycroft’s swollen shaft, stroking slowly to heighten the combination of sensations and keep Mycroft on edge anticipating and enjoying each new sensation. 

'A mirror…' Mycroft started, panting, his legs trembling under the amount of pleasure he had not anticipated he'd ever experience. 'A mirror is… A luminous idea… We'll do… This often, I'm sure… I'll enjoy it more and… _More_!' he shouted as Gregory hit his prostate.   
Since Gregory had told him he had the real leverage, Mycroft decided to experiment: as Gregory brought his hands up to hold his shoulders, Mycroft pushed deeply against Gregory and moved his hips in a circular movement.   
  
“Told you,” Greg smirked hands kneading the muscles of Mycroft’s shoulders. “See, you can take what you want just as much as I can. You’d like that, wouldn’t you…? Having a mirror set up so you can watch me pound into you while you push back and fuck yourself on my cock. You’re damn right we’ll do this often. Just think of it, a whole weekend spent in bed trying new things and things we know we like. Much better than being at the office, isn’t it?” 

He snapped his hips sharply adjusting the angle of his thrusts to keep Mycroft just on the edge.

Mycroft's groaning turned into a hissing as his frustration grew: he felt that Gregory was not _quite_ giving him his all. He pushed back against him as fiercely as he could. 

'Gregory… More…' he begged.   
  
“There you go.” Greg smirked with a smack to Mycroft’s hip. “Was wondering how long it’d take you to settle into this. Told you that you had just as much control as me. If not more considering you’ve got the solid headboard. Right then.”   
Gripping his shoulders firmly he let go of what little control he’d been holding on to, thrusting roughly as deep into Mycroft as he could adding a twist to his hips. 

Gregory pounded into him so roughly that the rhythm of his thrusts echoed onto the headboard, which Mycroft gripped more tightly, as it hit the wall behind it. 

After the initial surprise of Gregory letting go, Mycroft quickly did so as well, and set aside all flimsy consideration of propriety and decency he might have still arbored and let his panting and groaning be loud as he encouraged Gregory in arching his back more and being even more pliant. 

'Greg…ory… yes… So… good… Ye-yes…' he breathed, his ability to utter a proper sentence visibly diminished though not _quite_ annihilated.   
  
Greg smirked watching Mycroft’s control slip by the second. He’d had a suspicion that once Mycroft was given a good reason to let go, he’d embrace it with passion. Sliding a hand along his arms to give him a moment of warning Greg quickly had him pinned to the bed with a firm hand between his shoulders pounding into him roughly with a deep growl.

Despite what Gregory no doubt had intended to be a warning, Mycroft was surprised to find himself pushed down and pinned to the bed as Gregory drilled him. He was even more surprised to welcome and thoroughly enjoy this more feral, more bestial side of Gregory in this particular situation. 

The friction he got from the movements of their rough sexual encounter left him leaking and closer to completion. Were he still able to think beyond the pleasure each and every thrust of Gregory's fierce and unforgiving onslaught, he would very much doubt his ability to come without Gregory touching him. 

**  
**Greg remained aware enough to know if he was being too rough running a quick check of Mycroft for any sign of discomfort. There was a fine line and he wanted to walk along it carefully. He could tell that Mycroft’s brain had finally shut off and he was simply giving in and enjoying himself. Even though Greg had him firmly held in place he was still moving to meet him. 

“Fuck. So good,” he panted with a growl grinding roughly against Mycroft. 

It was obvious neither of them would last much longer but he was going to enjoy every second of this. 

Mycroft accompanied Gregory's thrusts and grinding and echoed his panting and groaning with gusto. 

Being held in place by Gregory's strong arms and upper body had something akin to liberation for him, freeing him from the constraints of his overworking brain and allowing him to focus on the present and the sensations he was experiencing. 

The soft, velvety feel of the sheets on his skin coupled with the friction produced by Gregory's fast movements produced highly appreciable stimulation on the head of his lubricated cock. **  
  
**Greg could almost feel the minute Mycroft’s brain shut off and he gave in to what was happening. Shifting his grip slightly to ease the strain on Mycroft’s shoulders he watched him grind eagerly against the soft flannel of the sheets. 

“So bloody close.” 

He could feel that Mycroft was teetering on the edge. It wouldn’t take much. Just a little more. The slightest touch.

Every feeling was heightened as nothing was holding Mycroft back from revelling in the flood of sensations. He was extremely aware of everything: of how Gregory was holding his arms at the wrists behind his back in a loosened grip; of how his own legs, slightly apart when Gregory had first encouraged him to his knees, were now spread in a wanton urge to be as open as possible to welcome Gregory's prick; of how his own swollen shaft moved against the sheets as he was pinned down to the bed. 

The smell of sweat and sex heavy in the air as the sound and feel of Gregory's hips connecting against his backside brought him closer and closer to completion.

His breathing was faster, his short fingernails digging into his own back: he groaned in pleasure as he came untouched under Gregory's strong pounding. **  
  
**Greg panted harshly revelling in the feel of Mycroft coming under him without being touched. It was the first time he’d managed it.   
Usually getting Mycroft’s brain to turn off was much more difficult. It seemed that Greg had finally discovered how to make his love completely relax and let go. A few more thrusts was all it took for Greg to loosen his hold on Mycroft’s arms and grip his hips tight enough that there would likely be marks left. Pulling Mycroft’s hips back and holding him in place Greg came with a deep groan.

The strength of both their release was so intense that for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the room was that of heavy panting as both caught their breath. Gregory bent onto Mycroft's back, planting a sloppy kiss on his neck as he pulled back and away, and Mycroft took a weak, flimsy hold of his wrist so he'd stay and settle on Mycroft’s back. 

He couldn't care less that he was sweaty and there be a wet patch under him. The only thing he wanted was for Gregory to hold him in the afterglow of their splendid, furious love-making. **  
  
**Greg chuckled softly nuzzling Mycroft’s sweat damp hair with a grin as he held him close. Without question it had been the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. Lightly running his hand along Mycroft’s arms and shoulders to help ease the ache he had no doubt would set in later he kissed his shoulder softly.   
He’d never seen Mycroft this pliant and relaxed. He was usually quite picky about clean up and after a few brief minutes of cuddling he was up, in the shower and getting the sheets changed. It was nice to hold him and revel in the closeness**,** which Mycroft visibly relished as well as his languid position suggested. 

'That was… Gregory… Fantastic…' Mycroft mumbled, moving his head slightly to deposit a kiss to the underside of Gregory's jaw, a contented smile on his face. 

  
Greg chuckled nuzzling Mycroft’s hair that was curling ever so slightly. 

“Mm well I did tell you that it’d be amazing and you’d enjoy it. I’m going to hazard a guess that you’re more than willing to try it that way again sometime.” Hopefully soon was left unsaid but implied. “Good thing you already have that full length mirror in the bedroom. We’ll just move it so that you can watch next time. Think you might like it,” he smirked.  
  


'Mm, of course I am, Gregory,' Mycroft replied, his voice still weakened, the rush of dopamine still coursing through his veins. 

'More than willing. Excellent idea,' he added, stuck on cloud nine. 'Soon,' he declared with finality.   
  


“Yeah, love, soon.” Greg chuckled softly gently stroking Mycroft’s shoulders and arms. “Glad you trusted me enough to try something different. Wasn’t too rough, was I?”   
He kissed and nuzzled Mycroft’s cheek lovingly. “Best sex I’ve ever had. Hands down. You’ve never come that hard before. Not to mention without me even touching you.” Greg smirked more than a bit proud of himself.  
  


'Too rough? Of course not. It was perfect. _You_ were perfect,' Mycroft said, his voice slightly croaky as he wiggled under Gregory and moved his hand to take Gregory's and laced their fingers together. He let out a deep sigh of contentment.   
'It was extraordinary. Fantastic sex. Thank you. Let's stay here, hm?' he asked timidly. 

**  
**Smiling Greg gave Mycroft’s hand a squeeze nuzzling his scruffy cheek against his. “Mm… Yeah. We’re not moving for a while. Not until we have to. And just so you know, I fully plan on a repeat performance later tonight.” 

Cheeks a bit pink from the praise he chuckled. “You give me too much credit sometimes. I’m not perfect but I’m happy to let you think I am. Sometimes.”

'Would… Would it surprise you that I find myself _very_ interested in that repeat performance?' he asked, squeezing Gregory's hand and bringing it closer to his chest. 'I'll look forward to it, it'll keep me sane through the duty of representative of Her Majesty to the _Watsons_…' he added, dread at the upcoming ordeal in his voice.  
'A fantastic performance by my perfect lover,' he concluded bowing his head to curl somewhat against Gregory's warm body. 

Greg smiled softly. It wasn’t often at all that Mycroft was so… sappy… but he loved the rare occasions when his guard was down enough to let him see it. 

“No, doesn’t surprise me. Makes me _very_ happy. Maybe we can shift the mirror in here so you can see better this time. All you have to do is be there and pass your congratulations along to them. Sure, you’ve got some amends to make with Sherlock and the Watsons, but you’ll come through fine. Besides, the harder you work at changing things and being cordial, the better your reward will be when we get back here later. Sound like a good enough incentive to be civil?” he teased pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s hair.  
  


'Civil? I am civil, dear,' he mumbled. 'It is a very appreciable, decent incentive. Or should I say indecent?' he chuckled, aware that his attempt at humour was feeble to say the least. He turned his head to try to steal a kiss from Gregory. 

'I am _happy_, too. Invincible. Nothing unpleasant can happen to me. Not when you're with me,' he added in a lower voice, close to a whisper as if ashamed to unveil vulnerable feelings, or indeed, _any_ feelings of a somewhat deeper layer.   
  
  
  


Holding him close Greg nodded kissing him sweetly. “Mm and we’ve got Rosie here, too. If she doesn’t brighten things up, nothing can. I’m glad you’re happy. I want you to be happy. You _deserve_ to be happy. Things are good. Sherlock’s got John and Rosie. And there are always crimes for him. We’ve got each other and we’ll work out a schedule that gives us more time to relax and enjoy things. Not sure how things could be much better.”

*******

The cold air and the snow on the Scottish countryside gave it an eerie atmosphere, the pine trees laden with heavy white coats, the snow-covered ground immaculate this early in the morning in such a secluded place, the forests nearby quiet. 

The happy couple was walking leisurely while their daughter was advancing gaily without caring for taking her time. 

Sherlock had a soft smile on his lips as he watched his little girl so open to happiness and positive experiences and making the best of a place she had known for less than a day. 

His hands in his heavy woollen coat, his throat protected by his usual scarf and his body covered by a pair of dark jeans, a button-down shirt and a jumper he had donned at Rosie's insistence to John's advice, he glanced at John, his eyebrow raised.   
  
John watched Rosie bounce a few steps ahead of them with Sultan at her side.   
“She’s having the time of her life with so much space to run,” he chuckled. “At least this way she’ll be worn out and ready for a nap after enjoying the reception for a bit. Doubt she’ll fight it much at all. Which should give us a bit of time to enjoy the rest of the reception. Everyone’s looking forward to hearing you play since I’ve been bragging about your skill for ages now. I’m sure we’ll be able to slip away for a bit of privacy. And yes, my legs are cold, but the boots help. And the woollen socks as well. So long as the wind isn’t going up my kilt, it’s not too bad. Chilly but not terrible.”

'I had hoped the only skill of mine you had bragged about was my deducing ability,' Sherlock retorted lightly, 'but since they have been aware of your infatuation with me since the day after you moved in, it seems only logical that you would tell them about another. As long as you didn't oversell them… And that you keep a certain interest of mine to yourself. One that you share with me intimately,' he added his tone much lower and as laced with lust as it had been earlier at the breakfast table. John reminding him that he was naked under his kilt had proven a sure way to keep his internal temperature quite warm. It was only natural that he wanted to share his warmth with John to prevent him from catching a cold. 

'What if it wasn't the wind who went up your kilt?' 

**  
**John snorted a laugh, shaking his head with a grin. 

“Well so long as it was something nice and warm then I wouldn’t object at all. Not one bit. I don’t see any reason I’d object to such a nice thing. Don’t worry, other than your deduction skills and your talent with the violin I’ve kept all your other talents to myself. Especially a few I am particularly fond of. I don’t much like the idea of sharing you so I keep all those things to myself. I see that the cold air isn’t cooling you off much this morning. Think you’re going to be able to behave yourself until we’re alone again? I promise you if you’re a very good boy I’ll reward you_ very_ well with whatever you want,” he smirked glancing over at Sherlock.  
  


_'You'_re the one not wearing any pants and reminding me of it. Not to mention promising mind-altering s.e.x.,' Sherlock countered, his hunger for John's body and attention still very much present. 'Pray tell, _how_ am I supposed to cool off, hm? I will try to behave but I will have a very hard time keeping my hands to myself,' he admitted. 'It's a talent I do not possess when it comes to you _and only you_, as you're well aware,' he continued a mixture of desire and ever so slight contrition in his voice.   
  
“Reminding you of it?!” John chuckled. “Sherlock, you’re the one who can’t stop staring and I can see the wheels turning in your head to figure out if I’m cold or not with nothing on under the kilt. And how can you look at me like you’ve been looking at me all morning and expect me _not_ to offer you mind _blowing_ s.e.x.? You bloody well know what it does to me when your eyes get all dark and hungry. I don’t expect you to keep those hands of yours completely to yourself. Just top of the hips and up. For both our sake. All the material and pleats of a kilt makes it somewhat more forgiving than form-fitting jeans like yours or trousers, but still, I’d rather not have my sporran sticking out horizontally,” he snickered at the mental image.  
  


'I don't need to figure out whether you have something on under your kilt, you _told _me earlier this morning, if you remember. Knowing that, _how _can I not be interested in warming you up? I can hardly control myself, let alone my eyes, Captain. Thank you for letting me know how much they can affect you,' he replied. 'Keeping my hands above your hips… Is that a challenge?' he continued.  
'I wouldn't want to show off, but I _know_ I could make you reconsider. I have a massive argument that you cannot possibly dispute or refuse,' he declared with finality. 'Let me assure you, however, that when you do, you will not face the embarrassment you have just mentioned. Hiding in plain sight might be the best way to hide trivial information, but when it comes to activities it is best to perform them in a private space,' he finished, his voice sure and suave.   
  


“Your eyes, your voice when you do the bloody jaguar trapped in a cello thing, the way you look at me, the way your hands move and knowing what they do to me and how they feel... if I’m not cooling off then neither are you. Just thinking about the plans you’ve got going to warm me up...” he tried to sound gruff and irritated but failed rather spectacularly.   
“Yes, yes, I know you could make me reconsider but I’d appreciate it if you’d save that for later when we can be alone. And I’ll make sure we find some space we can be alone for a bit. There’s a tiny storage room at the pub that just collects junk and a few random decorations. I think there might be just enough room for the both of us in there.”  
  


'What sort of person do you take me for, John?' he asked in a mock-offended tone. 'Or do you not take me for a person but a _beast_?'   
  
Leaning over John kissed his cheek. “Mm I’ll go with Rosie’s advice and give my beast a kiss to make him smile again. Always knew you’d be a beast once things settled for you. The word insatiable comes to mind. Not that I am complaining, at all, mind you. Actually thought for a while there was no one who could keep up with me so I learned to settle and appreciate things for what they were. Nice to know the man I love is the one who can keep up with me.”  
  


'Of course I can. It would have been a terrible waste of your many talents if I couldn't,' he replied relief and desire evident. 'Your previous partners not being able to was and should have been an indication of their incompatibility with you,' he added, jealousy colouring his words. Even though on a rational standpoint he knew he had no reason whatsoever to be, the emotional side of his brain was not of that opinion.   
  
“Hindsight is 20/20,” he shrugged reaching over and taking Sherlock’s hand, giving it a squeeze before raising it to his lips for a kiss. “All that matters now is we’re together and all’s right with at least our little corner of the world. Especially that,” he nodded to Rosie and Sultan who were making a beeline for a small group of very large, shaggy cattle that had large horns but seemed to take the approach of a small girl and her dog in stride.   
  


'Yes, you're right. That's all that matters. You and Rosie and by extension, Sultan. I'm sorry, I'm trying not to let my emotions cloud my judgement,' he added somewhat contrite.   
  


“Daddy! Papa! Heilan coos!!” Wading into the middle of the group she giggled as they sniffed her curiously. Sherlock smiled at his little girl's never-ending ability to be amazed by every new thing she encountered and constant enthusiasm for the world.   
  


John laughed. “Good job, Rosie. You pronounced that very well. Did Mac teach you how to say that?”   
  


'She can say it better,' Sherlock countered. 'It was a decent attempt, but she_ can _do better,' he added when John looked at him with incredulity.   
  


Laughing as one of the cows licked her cheek she nodded. “Slobbery!”  
  


'Yes, Rosie darling, but she likes you,' Sherlock chuckled. 'Have you seen Rudy anywhere? I'd like to meet this other addition to the family,' he said in all the seriousness he was capable of.   
  
Nodding eagerly Rosie patted the large cow that had licked her cheek. “Dis one Ruddy’s mommy, Finella. Cause she gots white shoulder. See!” Parting the thick reddish hair there was a white patch on the cow’s shoulder. “An' Rudy’s over dere!” she pointed to several calves bouncing around playing.   
“Rudy! Come ‘ere!” Calling to the calves she giggled as one bounded over to her nudging her chest and nearly knocking her down in the snow. 

“WOAH!” Rosie giggled holding on to his shaggy coat to keep from falling. “Daddy, Papa, dis Rudy. He MY cow. Gonna be BIG someday. Biggst, bestest heilan coo in da whole wide world!! So fluffy.” Giggling she wrapped her arms around Rudy’s neck. John smiled.   
  
“Highland cattle are well known for their gentle nature. And knowing Auntie and Mac, they’re almost as tame and gentle as Sultan.”  
  


'You really love animals, don't you?' said Sherlock, his head tilted to the side with a soft smile on his lips as he observed Rosie hug the cow she had named Rudy. 'However, you must be careful not to be too careless with them,' he warned. 'As tame and gentle as they are, these have sharp _horns _and weigh quite a lot. One adult male weighs the same as four pianos. Not to mention that a mother of that species is _always _defensive and protective of her calf. You have been lucky so far that she hasn't been… mean, but in future, it is best that you keep your interactions with the grown up cows. _Without_ their calves, and with a grown up present. That Mac fellow, for example,' he said walking up to her and taking her in his arms. 'I would rest easy if you were to be prudent, as I know your Daddy would,' he added, giving a kiss to her hair.   
'Now, now, don't you pout, little lady. If your Papa says you must be careful, it means that there _is_ a risk, however slight it might seem to you, regardless of what you've been told.'  
  
Rosie huffed arms crossed. “Rudy no hurt. Rudy mommy in charge an’ she no hurt. Love Rudy.”   
  


John smiled rubbing her back. “I know that none of them would ever mean to hurt you. I know Finella’s in charge and she’s ok with you loving on Rudy. We just want you to be careful. You’re smaller than some of the calves and one of the big cows might accidentally step on you. You were being careful. Papa’s not mad. Neither am I. We just want to make sure you’re safe. No going in with the cows without an adult or one of your older cousins. You can pet them through the fence and give Rudy treats. We know Rudy’s your friend. And Finella too.”  
  


Sherlock turned Rosie around so she was facing him. 'Rosie darling, you cannot imagine that I would be cross with you, I hope? Your Daddy and I only want you to be careful, to be safe. Apple of my eye,' he said tenderly before kissing her forehead and putting her down. 'Be careful when you go explore, little devil,' he added affectionately.

'She'll know the place faster than it would take either of us to say "Reichenbach",' he chuckled. 'Riding horses in England and cows in Scotland. I haven't seen a horse here yet, is that why you're so scared and wary of them, because you've not seen any when you came up here?' he teased.   
_   
_John chuckled watching Rosie pat several of the cows as they sniffed her. “Highland cows have a unique herd structure. Finella comes from a long line of herd leaders. If she’s decided Rosie’s a bit of all right, then the rest will follow her lead and be careful of her. Most of them are half hand-raised and don’t have much to worry about in terms of predators out here. They mostly use their horns to clear away the snow to get at the grass underneath. All of them know where the barns are and that there’s always an abundance of food. But those shaggy coats make them pretty weatherproof. She has no fear of anything. That’s good. And bad. Mostly good though.” Giving Finella a pat he smiled.   
“Auntie’s got some horses and there are half wild ponies about. No. I don’t care for horses because of the Kelpie. Harry and I had a run in with something horse-like and rather ill-tempered and nasty when we were a bit older than Rosie. Could’ve just been a large wild pony but I swear that thing was pure evil.”  
  


Sherlock snorted disbelievingly. 'You are scared of horses because of a supernatural being you _think _you have seen over thirty years ago? John, my dear,' Sherlock continued in a lower pitch so John would understand he was not being purposely mean, 'I have proven you time and again that ghosts, fairies, and monsters did not exist. You saw what your easily impressed mind wanted you to see. Nothing more, I assure you,' he concluded, taking John's arm under his. 

**_  
_**John shrugged slightly with a half-smile. “Oh, yes, because every child wants to see a horse creature that will happily give them a ride straight into the nearest body of water, drag them underneath the surface, and then eat them. Yes, delightful thing to see on a walk. Ask Harry about it. The thing was evil. Eyes black as coal and empty except for a red pinpoint of light burning like a coal at their depth, unnaturally sharp teeth, mane and tail all tangled and knotted with weeds and sticks, dripping wet when it hadn’t rained and there’s no bodies of water large enough for it to have got dripping wet in. It was utterly silent around that creature too. No birds, no insects, no nothing. We might have been impressionable, but I know what we saw.”

'And yet,' Sherlock started before aborting the sentence and going for a completely different one. 'It does sound very frightening, especially for a young, innocent child. Has it occurred to you that you invented this story to account for something else, in your eyes traumatising, the departure of a beloved pet for example, and you mixed it up with the folklore tale you've just recounted to me?' Sherlock asked, still dubious.**   
  
**

John snorted. “I think you’re getting the two of us confused, Sherlock. No. No death of a beloved pet. Dad wasn’t fond of animals. We didn’t so much have a goldfish or a hamster growing up. Much less a cat or a dog. Getting to come out here and play with all of Auntie’s dogs, barn cats, horses, cows, sheep. That’s the closest I ever got to pets. That thing was no pony or wild horse. Too big, too bulky. A bit trimmer and smaller built than Onyx, but not by much,” he shook his head**, **but Sherlock was still sceptical.   
  


'I _know_ you didn't have a pet at your parents' and naturally assumed you had one here. But anyway, let us not linger on the past, and concentrate on the present,' he continued. 'Harry's wedding, being back with your extended family, your fantastic aunt, and the disrupter of enjoyable time. My brother,' he precised between clenched teeth.   
  
John chuckled. “Oh, and let’s not forget that Irene and Kate will be here as well. I’m surprised we haven’t run into them yet. If we need to we can always get your brother distracted with what schemes Irene may be up to. I’m pretty sure she’d play along and keep him busy if it meant keeping his attention off of you. Besides, the look on his face when he saw you at the door was priceless. I really should have got a picture of it."  
  


'I did see a camera on the porch,' Sherlock said with a wink. 'I'm certain the angle could be useful. I admit I would love to share that picture with Mother and Father. I'm afraid that if I do, however,' he continued, 'it would be detrimental to him considering me as a changed, responsible man and not an arrogant and obnoxious child. If he comes across someone who is supposed to be dead according to his informants, however… It would have nothing to do with me,' he added conspiracy in his voice and a smirk on his lips.   
  


“Well I certainly wouldn’t put it past Auntie to have pulled a picture from the footage and sent it to your mum. You handled it very well. He was more officious than usual which means seeing you here and finding out I have connections really threw him for a loop. I think he’s beginning to thaw a bit. Especially when he’s around Rosie. I never would have expected him to be as good with her as he is. Especially considering his ‘fully functioning’ comment,” John snickered watching Rosie chatter excitedly to a small group of sheep who’d wandered up to see if she possibly had anything to eat.  
  


'I'm sure we'll know soon enough, Mother will not refrain from informing me,' Sherlock replied something akin to joy in his voice. 'I'm proud that you threw him off-balance. I never doubted you could, but witnessing it was a sight to behold,' he added in a delighted tone. He watched Rosie looking as happy and bright as ever, standing among the sheep who were still taller than her.   
'Yes, "fully functioning," indeed. You're her father. Of _course_ she would be. He's always underestimated you,' he added in a sigh. 'Despite her having my genes as well as yours… I'm relieved that she is much more at ease with everything and everyone surrounding her than I was at her age,' he continued, cheer finding its way back to his tone.   
  


“And a good part of that is everything you do with her. From the time she was barely able to focus her eyes on anything you’ve been teaching her and giving her new experiences and helping her see the wonder in the world. You’ve helped me show her that there’s absolutely no reason not to see every experience as something that might be fun, or at the least very interesting, and every person is potentially a friend. You help satisfy her endless curiosity with infinite patience for her questions. She’s confident and outgoing because you, we, have showed her that we will be right there to help her, protect her, love her, if anything goes wrong. And if Mycroft can’t see all of that then his head’s further up his own arse than I thought,” he glanced up at Sherlock with a smirk picturing Mycroft crashing into things with his head up his own ass**.   
  
**

Sherlock inclined his head, a blush on his cheeks. 'Thank you, that's… thank you,' he said in a soft voice, a timid smile on his face.   
  


“Daddy! Papa! I keeps sheeps? Pease! Dey be like Rudy. Dis one,” she nodded emphatically with her arms around the neck of a half-grown lamb who nibbled curiously on the sleeve of her coat.  
  


Upon hearing Rosie's request, Sherlock laughed heartily and looked at John. 

'It seems to me that her ladyship is going to adopt every animal she meets and finds adorable. Why not, after all,' he continued, 'as long as she can promise she can consider them all with the same affection. It would be just like your Daddy when he was a child, I think. What do you say, John?'   
  


“Well I don’t see why not. You can talk to Mac regularly and make sure all your animal friends are being well cared for. And I promise you that he’ll take very good care of all of them. Just like Hagrid."  
  


Nodding she pressed a kiss to the top of the lamb’s curly head. “Loves all of dem duh sames. Except Sultan. I love him bestest and mostest!”   
  
Nodding John gave Sultan a scratch behind the ears. “Well, I’m sure he’s glad to know that. And just because you love him the most doesn’t mean that you don’t love any of the rest of them. You can have a best friend and lots of other friends too. Just like Papa is my best friend but I have other friends too.”   
  


Nodding she rubbed her face into the thick wool. “What we name him?” Looking up at Sherlock she smiled. “You helps name him.”  
  


Sherlock blinked at her. 

'I…' he stammered, looking at John for support. John had lowered his face to hide the smirk on his lips. 'Well,' he started after a short pause, examining the sheep. 'He already has a name, and his name is Susan,' he declared. 'I speak sheep,' he told her, in a hushed, confiding tone.   
  


John snorted, turning it into a cough and turning around to compose himself. Barely containing a case of the giggles he nodded.   
“That’s right. Your Papa is fluent in a great many languages, including sheep. And considering that Scottish Blackface Sheep-Speak is a special dialect that takes years of studying, I am very impressed that he knows so much. It’s one of those languages that is harder to speak than understand. It’s all in how you add emphasis to the ‘baaaa’. You don’t want to insult them after all.”   
  


Rosie took this all in, nodding. “Papa speek sheeps!” Patting her new friend she smiled. “Hello Susan. You very fluffy!”   
  


John chuckled. “Yes, yes, he is. But I think it’s time we started back. After all the wedding can’t go on without the flower girl. It’s a very important job. I’m sure you’ll see Susan and Rudy tomorrow and can tell them all about your important job.”

As they approached the gravel path, they saw a sleek black car parking and a moment later two elegant women come out of it, both dressed elegantly as if already ready to attend the wedding ceremony. 

The two women saw them arrive and decided on waiting for them. Irene still had amends to make with John, but mostly with Sherlock, John having decided to give her a blank slate. 

Sherlock turned his coat collar up, put his hands in the pockets of the coat he had closed around himself and wore a haughty, detached air. 

'Kate, Irene,' he greeted them, his tone cautiously distant. 'I trust the trip went well,' he added as John elbowed him discreetly.   
  


'Oh, Sherlock, darling, there's no need to affect being so distant, we are _thrilled_ to see all three of you,' Irene replied. Kate had instructed her in the car not only to be on her best behaviour but also to be agreeable to everyone, especially Sherlock with whom contact was still difficult.   
She crouched to her knees to greet Rosie; from what she had inferred from the time Kate and her had been in London, Sherlock was particularly doting on John and his daughter. 

'Hello, Rosie, I can see you've already been exploring the surroundings. You have the healthy look of someone who has been walking and tremendously enjoyed herself,' she said with a smile.   
  


Rosie hugged Irene warmly kissing her cheek. “‘Rene!!! I gotsa a baby Heilian Coo an’ his name’s Rudy an’ I gotsa sheeps an’ Papa named him Susan!!”   
  


Kate laughed kneeling to get a hug from Rosie as well. “What excellent names and your Scottish is excellent. Are you all ready to be the flower girl?”   
  


Rosie nodded bouncing excitedly. “Yeah. Nana Hudson tolded me alls abouts it! It VERY important job. No fwowers, no walkins, no gettins mawwied. Dats duh rules!”   
  


John laughed watching them with Rosie. “She knows exactly what her role is, how to do it, and how important it is. We were just going to go in and get her cleaned up and changed.”   
  


Kate smiled at Sherlock who inclined his head “It’s nice seeing you again, Sherlock. It’s lovely here.”  
  


'It is, yes. I'm sure Harry and Clara will be overjoyed to see you both: as I was telling John earlier, you can't have a wedding without the best man, the maid of honour and the bridesmaids. Or the flower girl,' he added quickly before Rosie would notice he had not mentioned her role.   
  


'Sherlock Holmes, stating the obvious,' Irene teased ever so lightly as she stood up. 'I never thought I'd see the day,' she chuckled. 'I've been making similar statements on the way up here,' she confided.   
  


'I'm sure,' Sherlock retorted without bite. 'My brother is here,' he blurted.   
  


Arching an eyebrow, Irene gave a mischievous smile. 'He's sure to be shocked when he sees that his secret service is not up to date on the information it gives him,' she said, lightly putting her hand on his forearm with a confident smile. Sherlock nodded.  
  
John laughed. “That’s right!! Mycroft has no idea that Kate and Clara are old friends. Another blow to his ego.” He smirked at Sherlock. “Mycroft was ordered here to attend the wedding because Her Majesty wanted to make sure that the great niece of one of her oldest friends received her gift and congratulations personally. Needless to say the look on his face when the car pulled up and Sherlock and I were standing at the front door to greet them was priceless. And then he met Auntie.”   
  
Kate smiled. “Oh, so she’s still with us?! Wonderful! I’m so glad I get to introduce Irene to her. Harry and I came up here on holiday and your aunt is incredibly fascinating. You’ll love her. She’s quite outspoken, irreverent, and doesn’t care at all about what most people think. You’ll adore her.” She hugged Rosie. “And how wonderful for Rosie to get to know her. What a wonderful role model for her.”  
  
“Well she took an immediate liking to Sherlock. And then had Mycroft drinking out of her rude tea cups. He almost choked to death on his tea when he read what was in his cup and saucer.” John chuckled scooping Rosie up. “Let’s go get your pretty dress on.”


	11. Scarborough Fair

As for every wedding, everyone was dressed to the nines, proudly exhibiting their clan’s tartan, the Watson one being the most present.

John had gone back to their room to make final adjustments – Clara and Harry had asked him to wear a bow tie because ‘bow ties are cool and you need something to set you apart as the best man’ - and refresh himself a bit, as well as putting on a pair of pants; and Sherlock had taken his jeans and jumper off, putting on a tight-fitting white suit and colour-coordinated shirt after a much needed hot shower – walking in the snow for two hours was bound to have made them all sweaty and in need of refreshment.

As for Rosie, they had put her in a white flowing dress, reminiscent of the one she’d had for Christmas, with the exception of a sash around her hips in the colours of the Watson tartan.

The bridesmaids, who wore deep navy blue dresses for good luck in echo to the blue tradition and white bouquets for peace and pure love, were gathered together in the middle of the ballroom, chatting excitedly as they waited for their party to leave for church to witness the brides’ exchange of vows and the pronouncement of their union.

Despite homosexual weddings not being allowed by the Church of Scotland, a civil marriage was perfectly sound and had been legal for a few years; and Harry and Clara had decided to have the ceremony on the estate as well as the following reception, keeping everything in the Watson family as their wedding would be celebrated by a cousin twice-removed of Harry’s.**  
**  
John smiled watching the bridesmaids make a fuss over Rosie who was more than happy to show off how her dress fluffed whenever she twirled around. Sultan sat at her feet yipping excitedly and wiggling. Rosie had convinced him to hold the handle of her flower basket so she would have an escort down the aisle. How well this would work remained to be seen, but they made an adorable combination that would be sure to win hearts even if things went awry.  
  
Looking over at Sherlock John smiled. “You look very handsome. Suits always look good on you. The bright blue of that tie pin looks spectacular on you. Auntie made sure you have a seat next to her. I’m not sure which of you will keep the other out of trouble though. You two could be a very dangerous, but entertaining combination. We’ll have a bit of time to come back and change into something more comfortable before the reception so you can grab your violin then.”

Sherlock chuckled, nervously tugging at the collar of his tie. ‘Thank you. I can’t wait to take this tie off. I don’t like having my airway constricted. Except under one circumstance,’ he added cheekily, a smirk on his lips. ‘Or for you to get into something “more comfortable”. Even though you look devastatingly hot, I’m sure I am not the only one out of the both of us who is looking forward to loosening up their garments,’ he said taking the lapels of John’s Prince Charlie jacket and coming closer to him to give him a light kiss on the lips. 

John raised a brow giving Sherlock’s lip a light nip. “Mm cheeky. You know I like that. You can loosen your tie a bit. No need to have it at Mycroft levels of proper. And if you want to get rid of it, get rid of it. No one will complain about it. At least you’re not wearing a bow tie. If Harry hadn’t insisted I wear it, I wouldn’t be wearing it."

'What of the tie pin? I can't wear it directly on my shirt. If I let the tie go, the tie pin will have to go as well.' 

John chuckled. “It’s a lovely tie pin, but if you’re uncomfortable ditch the tie. Grab a couple of flowers, a bit of greenery, use the tie pin to hold it together on your suit. It would be unique.”

'Thank you. Advice I will certainly bear in mind,' he replied loosening the collar on his tie. 

"I’m still not sure how this whole thing’s going to work with Sultan supposedly carrying the flower basket for Rosie, but I guess we’ll see. Even if it doesn’t work, people will appreciate the cute factor of it.” He was rambling a bit, he was sure of it. Weddings still made him a bit nervous.

Sherlock slightly quirked his eyebrow and let his hand find John's. 'Rosie convinced him, but you seem to forget that she has trained him every day ever since she's learnt that she was to be flower girl to your sister's wedding. Don't forget that Sultan will follow her, either. It will be a success,' he declared squeezing his hand.  
  
Looking up at him John returned the squeeze. “It’s just that with small children and puppies, expecting the unexpected is the rule. I’m sure they’ll be fine. And if not, well, I’m sure it’ll be a hit and people will be charmed by it. I think everyone’s about ready for the walk over to the chapel. You sure you’re ok walking with Irene? She’s trying. Rosie’s fond of her. Seems to think Irene’s some sort of secret superhero with a secret identity or something.” He chuckled shaking his head. “Not sure how she came up with that idea but she seems pretty convinced.”

'I do have to go through with it. I…' Sherlock bowed his head. 'I… Shall not let anyone down. I seem to have done that too many times already,' he added glancing towards the far-end of the room where Mycroft was standing.  
  
“Sherlock, love, look at me,” John coaxed with a hint of firm command to his tone. “You are not, and have not let _anyone _down_. _And I know you’re not going to. You’re doing amazing. Look, you’ll be sitting with Auntie and you can be sure she’s not going to let Mycroft do or say anything that’s going to ruin this day. She likes you. Him? Not so much. I’m proud to have you on my arm and by my side. You’re part of the family. Mycroft may be your brother, and the government, but he’s not yet shown that he belongs here as part of the clan.” He smirked leaning in closer and keeping his voice low. “All it would take is one word. One little word to Auntie and Mac would happily toss your brother into the nearest snowdrift or pile of manure out by the barns.”

The beginning of a smile grew on Sherlock's face: the mental image produced by the suggestion of having his brother in either of these embarrassing positions was entertaining. 'I appreciate the sentiment. Really, I do. But I must act like a reasonable grown-up where Mycroft is concerned. If I don't attack him every chance I get, he might start seeing me differently.'  
  
At the other end of the room**, **Greg nudged Mycroft slightly glancing toward Sherlock. “I’m going to go compliment Rosie on her lovely dress and Sultan on the charming bow he’s wearing. You are going to go have a talk with your brother and mend fences a bit.” 

Effectively pushed towards the room and Sherlock, Mycroft wondered how to approach his brother. As he walked up to him and took a deep breath in, Sherlock turned to face him. His face was neutral, or what other people would consider neutral, but Mycroft could see the effort it took Sherlock to keep himself together. He also noticed that he was wearing a _tie _even though they made him feel trapped and that _all_ the buttons on his shirt were done. He had never seen Sherlock go to such a degree of propriety and had always sent jibes his way for that very reason, among others. 

'Mycroft,' Sherlock greeted him, his voice slightly stiff. 'I hope you are ready to fulfill the duty for which you came here.'

'Sherlock,' he greeted him in much the same tone, though a touch of apprehension had made its way in his voice. 'I am, indeed. Are you?' he enquired, genuinely concerned. 

'I beg your pardon?' 

'The last wedding you attended…' 

'I'm not a _child_ anymore, Mycroft,' he retorted. 

'I know. This time your family is with you. I mean… Well. I mean that your family is surrounding you.'

'Indeed,' Sherlock replied rather strongly, the implication that they would do a lot to help him evident in the intonation he had just used. Mycroft visibly flinched. _I am sorry. Forgive me. _

Surveying the small crowd, Adelaide watched Sherlock and his brother and glanced at John who was in deep discussion with Rosie. Back straight and steps sure she made her way toward them holding on to her ornamental walking stick.

'Rosie is looking especially beautiful today. Did you help in choosing her attire?' Mycroft watched his niece review her instructions for carrying the basket of flowers to her faithful canine companion.

'Yes. I also prepared her for the role she is to perform here,' Sherlock replied with pride in his voice. 

'I have no doubt whatsoever.' Mycroft took a deep breath in before continuing. 'You are a very competent man, and from what I heard from several people, the ones whose opinion matters, an excellent father. I had nothing to go on but what I knew of you before you met John and started to change into a better, more mature person. I am sorry, Sherlock. Forgive me?'

Adelaide smiled at Sherlock as she stopped near the two brothers. 

“Well, you look rather dashing Sherlock. You could pass for James Bond. Almost as handsome as Sean Connery at his peak. Not that I wouldn’t look twice at him even now, but I don’t think my Lara would quite appreciate that. Though I don’t think she would mind too terribly much. She’s always fancied him a bit as well.”

Moving the end of her walking stick to rest lightly on top of Mycroft’s foot she looked up at him. “You will be escorting me to my seat before the ceremony. And then you may take your seat with your handsome Inspector. I’ll have a seat up front with Sherlock so he’ll be close to John and Rosie. I’m certain you’ll be able to adequately fulfill such a simple task. Even if it is below the level of your usual duties.” 

She cocked her head slightly, studying Mycroft and applying a bit of pressure to his foot with her walking stick while looking over at Sherlock with a warm smile. 

Mycroft's eyebrow twitched but remained in place, his eyes ever so slightly widened, indicating his surprise at Adelaide's direct and intimidating words and act. 

'Thank you for informing me, Lady Adelaide. Your niece's wedding will be a success and a delight to assist to, I am sure,' he replied. Despite wanting to address her words and implications as well as the use of her walking stick, it was best that he left it unacknowledged. That woman had far too much power to cross and apparently was an old friend of his employer. 

“Look what an exceptional job you’ve done with Rosie!’ she exclaimed, a warm look in her eyes as she addressed Sherlock. “She and Sultan will do wonderfully and be the highlight of the whole event. I doubt the brides would object to being upstaged just a bit by their darling niece,” Adelaide praised Sherlock warmly.

Sherlock's cheeks took a faint blush at the praise that had just been bestowed on him. He was not a complete idiot when it came to people: after all, the field of psychology did come in very useful in a criminal investigation. It was still difficult to relate it to common, daily situations and interactions, but in this case he had understood what John's Aunt had meant and that she had placed herself as an ally against Mycroft's extremely biased view he had of him. 

'Thank you for the compliment, Lady Adelaide. I appreciate it fully, but I suspect that John will appreciate it just as much as I do. He worries things will go awry. I imagine he is concerned about more than Rosie and Sultan's flower walk,' he reflected.  
  
She laughed waving a hand dismissively. “If things go awry then it will only help to break the tension and ease everyone’s nerves. Mister Fell is quite fond of animals and adores children so I’m certain that he won’t mind if things don’t flow perfectly. Weddings are a time for celebration. Besides, when you get to be my age you learn to celebrate even when things don’t go perfectly as planned.”**  
  
**‘I’m sure, Sherlock agreed. ‘Thriving for perfection has always been a streak of mine, and of John’s as well, I expect. I should remember to convey your words to him and try to emulate your calm.’

“You are intending to play with the other musicians at the reception, aren’t you? John has bragged about your skill with the violin for years now.”

‘To be perfectly honest, I was only planning to join the playing at the pub later on,’ he admitted. ‘As I’m sure you know, weddings and wedding receptions are something of a sore issue to me,’ he admitted.  
  
“Ah. Yes. Of course,” she nodded patting his arm. “Quite understandable. You should spend some time with mister Fell. He has an incredibly rare book collection and I’m certain you two would enjoy quite the spirited conversation. Not to mention I’m certain he would be more than happy to keep an eye out for Rosie getting into any childish trouble with her cousins if you and John need a bit of time together. And his partner, Mr Crowley, is quite knowledgeable about plants. You should ask him about how locaine powder is produced and its uses. I’d be quite surprised if you’ve never encountered anyone who’s used it.”

'Thank you for the suggestion. I imagine that this Mister Fell is the one who'll celebrate Harry and Clara's wedding? I am extremely intrigued by the knowledge his partner could provide, it would be a tremendous help to criminal investigation!' he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the prospect of solving more crimes and expand on his knowledge on poisons. _It's Christmas…! _he thought, clenching his fists in anticipation, an elated smile on his face. 

“Oh I’m certain you’ll find them both fascinating. Mr Fell has a very large, very old shop in Soho that I’m certain would have any number of books that you might find interesting and helpful. A lovely place to spend a few hours, or even days. He’s known the family for years and is practically part of it. I don’t think we could possibly dream of having anyone else perform the ceremony. He’s very open minded when it comes to things. As is Mr Crowley. They’ve been together positively for ages. I think you’ll find them both quite interesting. I’m sure John will appreciate Mr Crowley’s Bentley which he’s restored to pristine condition. Even if all it does is play Queen. He says it’s quite beyond his control,” she shrugged with a smile. “And if you’re ever looking for new and different books to read to and with Rosie, stop by Mr Fell’s shop and I’m certain he’ll find something just right.” She patted Sherlock’s hand while giving Mycroft a hard look. “And really Sherlock, it’s Aunt Adelaide to you. Auntie if you wish.” 

'Th… Thank you,' Sherlock stammered. 'I'm honoured,' he replied before glancing at Mycroft who appeared resolutely dumbfounded. 'And more and more intrigued by these two persons,' he added. 'I'll be sure to talk to them, they seem to be incredible resources and, I'm sure in time, friends.'

She waved a hand pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek. “I believe everything should be ready. You have a quick talk with Rosie and Sultan and give my nephew a pep talk. He might need it.”

'Some things never change,' Mycroft stated, his lips not quite a smile, but certainly something close to it. 'I am glad to know that you are considering expanding your still relatively small circle of friends. Even if those you seem to be considering are a man who dabbles in poisons and a dealer of antique books in _Soho_, no less,' he continued, his tone just a touch warmer than when they started talking. Sherlock, however, knew that, at this exact moment and in the arduous circumstance of everything being beyond his control, the words Mycroft gave him were the nicest he was capable of. 

'Lady Adelaide, shall I escort you to your seat?' he asked in a controlled voice.  
  
Politely nodding to Mycroft, she took his arm. “Well I suppose so.” 

Glancing at the hint of a purple mark peeking over his collar she smirked. “Ah I see that the country air has been quite good for you and your Inspector. And you were quite nice to Sherlock. I’m glad to see that you’re taking some things to heart.”

Mycroft discreetly cleared his throat, a flush of red covering the tip of his ears. 'Scotland is a beautiful country, very peaceful. It makes it easier to connect rather than in the hussle and bussle of London,' he replied, bashfulness colouring his voice. 

Laughing she nodded. “And all the better when you have a handsome Inspector who’s quite the silver fox to enjoy it all with,” she replied as they left the room towards the Chapel. 

Sherlock turned to John. 'Two people you care about deeply tell you that the wedding of your sister will be beautiful,' he declared before taking John's hand in his. 'I know that unconsciously you still arbour doubts as to her sobriety, but there is absolutely no reason to. I can certify that she has not and will not touch the slightest drop of alcohol. As unlucky as their previous marriage had been, this one will not… Alcohol over consumption will _not_ be its downfall,' he concluded squeezing John's hand in reassurance**.  
  
**John smiled up at him relaxing a bit. “I know. Can’t help but worry a bit. I trust Harry. I know she’s not going to screw things up again. I know she and Clara went through a lot of therapy and counselling, and things are better. Much better than they were last time. She’s happy. I just don’t want anything to happen that’ll change that for her.”

Sherlock nodded his understanding at John's worried state. 'Nothing will change and ruin it.**' **

Watching Mycroft escort Adelaide to the chapel he shook his head. “I saw her making sure Mycroft knew his place. He wasn’t being too terrible to you, was he?”

'He had come to make amends of some sort. I think your Aunt's dominant presence and her cold, detached words incited him to give an apology.'  
  
“Good. About time someone made him apologise and make him mean it,” he shook his head. “I think Rosie and Sultan are about ready for their big entrance and I have to make sure Harry’s ready. Rosie’s very eager to show everyone how big she is and how well she’s trained Sultan. I’m sure someone will get video of it for us. I’ll see you in a bit.” Smiling he laid his hand against Sherlock’s cheek kissing him sweetly. 

Rosie bounced impatiently. “Daddy! Papa! Hurry! No times for kissins!! Me an’ Sultan gots important job to do!!” 

John bent over her and smiled, straightening her flower crown. “Yes you do, Rosie bee, but Papa and Irene have to go first. And then the other bridesmaids. Then you and Sultan go right before me and Aunt Harry.” 

Nodding she smiled. “I know. We practice LOTS! Watch! Sultan, flowers.” 

Walking beside Rosie Sultan held the basket of flower petals letting her reach in and scatter a few. “See. We know what we’s doin!”  
  
Greg chuckled at Rosie's eagerness. With that performance, the ceremony would really be too cute for words. He turned to John. “I’ll get video for you. Promise. I think they’re about ready. I better go sit by Mycroft before your charming aunt can make him any more uncomfortable.”

'Did I hear that someone is making Mycroft Holmes uncomfortable?' came a feminine voice, chuckling behind them as Gregory walked away. 'Imagine that, my role taken away,' she pouted. 'It'll be twice the embarrassment for him, seeing me while he thought I was d… In America,' she said as Kate elbowed her, nodding in Rosie's direction. 'I trust the walk you went on has done you good and calmed your spirits. Walls have ears, if you know how to listen,' she whispered confidently. 

'Irene. I imagine you have been informed that you and I are to walk together as will Clara with Kate and John with Harry.'

'Yes, I have. I don't need a reminder. Believe me, Kate has been telling me this over and over. So, that walk?' she enquired insistently.  
  
Rosie huffed. “Finawwy!!! We gotsa hurry!! We go dis way.” She smiled at Irene taking Sherlock’s hand and gently tugging him along. “No be late. Important job!”  
  
John knelt to kiss her cheek and straighten the bow on the back of her dress. “Yes, you have a very important job. Aunt Harry and I will be along in just a minute. As soon as Papa sits down by Aunt Adelaide you and Sultan go. Remember, don’t run. Walk nice and slow ok.” 

Nodding she stood straighter, looking like a miniature version of John when he’d set his mind to something. 

“Yup. Slow. No runnins. Pwomise.” 

He smiled at Irene. “You look lovely. Mycroft hates not knowing things and you are a very big thing he does not know about. I’ll try not to be too smug.”

'A big thing? What a delightful compliment,' she retorted without much bite. 'Funny how your little girl can obtain what she wants. Much like her father. _Both_ of them,' she added. 

'I hope you are not implying anything, Ms Adler,' Sherlock warned. 

'I'm not implying anything. Well, not anything reprehensible,' she clarified with a wink. 'You can be as smug as you like, John. Considering the way Mycroft Holmes set me "free" with no care as to my safety all these years ago…' she trailed off. 'Some things are not worth dwelling over, others are more difficult to forgive.'  
  
John nodded. “Mm I’ve got a file going on things he’s done if you’d like to compare notes sometime. At least Sherlock was able to save you. That counts for something. I’m glad you and Kate could be here. I know it means a lot to Clara and Harry to have old friends here to celebrate.  
Rosie’s had quite a lot to say about getting to see the two of you when we went shopping. You made quite the impression.” Rosie sighed heading for the door with a bit of Sherlock’s stomp. If they weren’t going to hurry up then she’d just go on by herself.

**'**Your man was able and willing to come to my help, I will never thank him enough. Between you and me,' she added sotto voce, 'my attending Clara and Harry's wedding is also a way to thank Sherlock. I don't need to explain to you how it works, do I?' 

'It appears talking is to be resumed after the wedding ceremony,' Sherlock called, a smirk on his lips at Rosie's determined and stubborn walk.  
  
John shook his head. “And I’ve seen that walk a million times. Rosie, love, wait for Papa. I’ll go collect Harry and be right behind all of you.” 

Rosie marched determinedly toward the chapel with Sultan at her side. Catching up with Mycroft and Adelaide she smiled. 

“Hi Auntie! Hi Uncle Mytoft. Peoples bein’ slow. Me and Sultan go. We no go, no weddins.”  
  
Adelaide chuckled offering her free hand to Rosie. “Yes I can see that, lass. You have a very important job. Do your fathers know where you are?” 

Rosie smiled up at her. “Yup. Tolded dem I was goin’.” 

Adelaide chuckled. “Ah I see. Well I believe you could use a few more flowers for your basket.”  
  
A lean man in a dark suit and sunglasses leaned against the wall. “Definitely does. Come here and I’ll fix you up.” 

Looking up at Mycroft and her Aunt, Rosie hesitated a moment. 

“It’s all right Rosie. I’ve known Anthony for years. No one grows flowers and plants quite like he does.” 

Chuckling he ran a hand through his red hair. “Ah Addie, you flatter me.” Kneeling in front of Rosie he straightened the circlet of flowers on her hair adding more blooms. “Now, about that basket.” He looked in it. “Mmm needs more petals don’t you think? Enough to cover the whole floor.” 

Rosie nodded with a smile. “Lots.” He nodded looking at her over his sunglasses. “Check and see.” 

Smiling she giggled. “Yeah! Lots now! Uncle Mytoft, look!!”

**‘**Uncle My_croft,_ little lady. Think of the word _crime_, a word I’m certain you have heard often enough given your fathers’ and uncle Greg’s profession,’ he added in an effort to help her achieve the correct pronunciation. Mycroft then bent over her basket to look inside it. Unable to control his reaction, his left eyebrow shot up.  
‘Good Lord, Sir…! that is quite the miracle you have performed. There were half that many petals… I’m at a loss as to explain what exactly happened, but thank you for my niece’s happiness,’ he added seeing stars of admiration in Rosie’s eyes. ‘What is your name, Sir, if I may ask?’  
  
The man smiled, busily tucking a sprig of highland heather into Rosie’s sash and tweaking the bow on the back of her dress. “Anthony J. Crowley. Old friend of Addie’s. No connection to that so called ‘prophet’ or whatever who called himself that, used my name without asking,” he huffed muttering to himself as he tried to perfect Rosie’s flower crown and struggling with the bow around Sultan’s neck. “Bloody bow ties. Never was good at them,” he grumbled. 

“If you’d allow me, Crowley dear,” intervened a slightly plump gentleman wearing a tartan bow tie and fluffy white hair smiling at the two.  
  
Crowley huffed. “Might as well, angel. You know I can never get them right.” 

“Well, we can’t all be good at everything. You did a lovely job with the flowers and adding more to her basket.” Kneeling in front of Rosie he smiled. “Hello there, Rosie.” 

Giggling she gently patted his curls. “Foffy!! Like Papa’s. Soft.” 

Adelaide smiled. “Rosie, this is Mr Fell. I’ve known him and Mr. Crowley for a very long time.” Fell nodded straightening the bow on Sultan’s collar until it sat flat and straight. “There now. A perfect canine companion for a wedding.”

'Mr Crowley…?' he let fly the words and his incomprehension at the name. 'It is my pleasure to meet the both of you. I gather that you will be the one celebrating the wedding?' he asked Mr Fell. 'I would like to apologise for my niece's disregard for personal space…' 

'Look, Sherlock, your brother is trying to make small talk.' 

'As we all know, it is not his strong suit,' Sherlock concurred.  
  
Mycroft fell silent, his eyes opened wide and his eyebrows rose up as colour visibly drained from his face. He turned around ever so slowly, confirming the identity of the woman his brother was in the company of. If it were at all possible, he paled even more. As the brothers exchanged a look, a condescending and victorious smirk grew on Sherlock's face.  
  
Rosie giggled happily sinking her fingers into Mr Fell’s soft curls and petting them. “Papa! He sof’ like you and Rudy!!”  
Mr Fell giggled tweaking the hem of Rosie’s dress that seemed to take on just a little more sparkle.  
“Oh don’t apologise. She’s a darling child. And I’m quite pleased to be compared to such a gentle creature as Rudy. Ah! Mr Sherlock Holmes!! It’s a pleasure to meet you at last!! And to meet your adorable and charming daughter on top of it.”  
He patted Rosie’s head earning a warm hug as he extended his hand to Sherlock. “I’m certain Adelaide has told you of my shop, she’s always telling people about my shop. “ Smiling, he looked a bit pleased at the fact. “You’ll have to come by some time. I’m certain I have a few books you’d enjoy looking at.”  
  
Rosie smiled. “Mister Azzy Fell dis Irene. She my frend.”  
She looked at the adults who all seemed to know something else was going on and cocked her head. “Papa? Uncle Mytoft?”

‘Your uncle has had a fright, my darling. He missed something, and his ego is _very_ bruised,’ Sherlock said somewhat snidely. He will be better, don’t worry.’ he added in reassurance to his little girl. According to John, she adored her uncle and it was not… nice to have her worry unnecessarily. Besides, Mycroft _would_ get better, eventually.  
‘Mr Fell, you seem to have been entrapped in my daughter’s love. You cannot escape it,’ he told him, his smile turning affable. ‘Pleasure to meet you as well. I should be honoured to visit your bookshop, and I’m certain this little angel would love to come with me,’ he continued, softly patting Rosie’s head.

‘Mr Fell, it is charming to make your acquaintance,’ Irene said, extending her hand to greet the man, whose clothing style was pristine but old-fashioned. 

Mycroft was trying to hold his head up high, but his pallor and clenched fist betrayed him. ‘Ms Adler,’ he greeted her in a strangled voice. ‘What are you… How...?’

‘Mr Holmes, clearly we need to talk, but is it the time and the place?’ she scolded him with a chuckle. ‘Sherlock had told me that you had… _melted_ but you appear to be somewhat frozen at the moment. Are you quite alright?’ she wondered in a concerned tone while the man in the dark suit wearing sunglasses sighed deeply. 

Sherlock turned his attention to the other man. ‘Ah, Mr Crowley. I assume all this small talk is boring to you. I’d like to have a discussion about plants later. La... Adelaide told me you were a connoisseur in this field and as I take a particular interest in it, it struck me as a perfect topic to exchange on,’ Sherlock said, his words flying at an excited speed, his eyes lit up with passion.  
  
Crowley nodded. “Yeah. I seem to have a green thumb. I take it in your line of work you’ve come across more than a few poisons. You’d be amazed how many come from plants and have been processed into something synthetic. Not to mention the angel’s got several dozen books on the subject. Not to mention just about anything else. No telling what you’ll dig up on the shelves.” 

‘Indeed, I have come across quite a few. I also am personally interested in them as a scientist,’ he told Crowley. ‘I sometimes wish the poisons used by criminals were a bit more… challenging to detect, but I’m told it’s not a pleasant experience for the victim,’ he whispered. ‘Why did I tell you that?’ he wondered aloud.**  
**  
Fell smiled watching Rosie animatedly explaining what Sultan’s job was and how she, with only a _little _help from Papa, had trained Sultan to carry the pillow with the rings. After all, no flowers and no rings meant no wedding. “And I’ve got a very nice selection of children’s books that I’m certain she would enjoy looking at.”  
  
Rosie smiled. “Daddy gotted me The Pwincess Bwide. Papa read it to me all the time. Bestest book ever! Right, Papa?!”  
**  
**Skipping over to him she twirled showing off the added fluff and sparkles to her dress along with her almost overflowing basket. Smiling at her new friends she took Sherlock’s hand.  
“They helped give more flowers an’ make me an’ Sultan extra prettier!!”

‘Yes, my darling. They did,’ he chuckled at the wording she had used. Rosie was the only person whom he tolerated grammar mistakes from: she was only two years old, after all. ‘What do we say to people who help us?’ he enquired. 

Rosie smiled. “Fank you for helpins with dress an’ fwowers! I like your foffy hair. An’ I like Mr Crowley’s glasses. Him’s got pweddy eyes. I seened dem over da top of his gwasses. Dey my fwends now. We go see bookshop Papa? Get new books! Books wif pweddy picshus in dem!”

‘Quite so, my darling, quite so. Mr Fell has just made a very nice proposition and we should thank him about that, too.’

Rosie gave more enthusiastic thanks to the two men she had just met and dubbed friends.  
Irene stood close to Sherlock, observing the exchange between everyone, keeping an eye on Mycroft and his reaction. However, Mycroft remained silent, his eyes constantly moving: he clearly was looking for a clue he might have missed or overlooked concerning her status. He was most likely aware that she had been taken prisoner to be beheaded in Karachi and wondered how she had escaped this fate.  
Having some hindsight here to guide her decision as to what she could reveal if asked would have been ideal, but she had grown during these last six years and decided not to reveal anything if asked. There was little point to further the gap between the Holmes brothers, and Kate would be sure to ensure she knew.

Spotting John coming along with Harry doing their usual sibling bickering Rosie waved excitedly. “Daddy! Aunt Harry! I gots new fwends! Mr Fell has books and Mr Crowley knows all abouts plants an’ poisons!”

John laughed shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised you’ve fixed yourself on the poison part? You and Sultan look very nice.”  
He made his way over to Irene. “Kate will be along in a minute. The hem on her dress was coming undone so she was stitching it back down. I take it Mycroft’s still figuring out how you’re here.” He glanced over at Mycroft. “He’ll get over it. Greg will help settle him down. He’s not used to having two shocks. When they pulled up, Sherlock greeted them at the front door. You can imagine how_ that _went down.” Irene still wasn’t his favourite person but he was going to make an attempt to be kind to her. She was trying and that deserved a lot of credit.

‘Gentlemen,’ Sherlock started, a note of pride in his voice, ‘This is John Watson, my partner and this little angel’s daddy. In case it had escaped your hearing,’ he added chuckling. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things about him, since you’ve known Adelaide for a long time,’he continued. ‘Mycroft may pretend to be untouchable but when he is facing something unexpected, I should think he reacts more strongly than I do,’ he declared smugly.

‘I’m sure you gave him quite a surprise, welcoming him here,’ Irene replied her eyes bright. ‘I don’t regret giving him my share of a fright,’ she declared. ‘It’s hardly as if he would not recover, as you said, John.’

Mycroft blinked and walked to them. ‘Ms Adler. I only hope you are not here to _misbehave._ Please apologise for not greeting you properly, as you may have surmised, I find myself extremely surprised…’

‘_Dumbfounded_,’ Sherlock whispered at the same time.

‘...to see you here,’ he finished throwing Sherlock a disapproving look. He was still disturbed, but had clearly recovered enough to silently reproach his little brother.

‘No, not at all,’ she replied. ‘My wife is the chief bridesmaid at this wedding. I _will_ misbehave,’ she added, a note of sultry menace in her voice, ‘though not the way you’re thinking and certainly not for the reason you’d expect.’  
  
Rosie bounced excitedly. “We aims to misbehaves!! Like da Mawaders!!” 

Mr Fell chuckled. “Yes, my dear, just like those mischievous Marauders. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Watson. We’ve had the most delightful time with your daughter and her charming canine sidekick. Your aunt has been talking about you for years to Crowley and he has relayed many of the stories to me. Oh, and your lovely sister as well. A pleasure to meet you as well, Harry. You look absolutely lovely,” he smiled sniffling a bit and taking the handkerchief offered by Crowley. “Oh, don’t mind me. I always cry at weddings. I’ll get through the ceremony just fine. It’s just that there’s so much happiness and love!”  
  
Crowley huffed. “Yes, angel, of course. Can we maybe get on with things?!”  
  
John cocked his head, having vague memories of seeing the two men at various times when he and Harry had visited growing up, but neither man seemed to have aged at all. 

_Well, there are more important things to focus on_. 

Harry smiled watching Rosie bask in the excitement of new friends and being the center of attention with Sultan. “Rosie, are you and Sultan ready? We can’t have the wedding without you.” 

Rosie gave a salute worthy of John’s time in the army, and nodded before marching off with Sultan at her side for her grand entrance.

Clara arrived, holding Kate’s arm as she brought her down to the chapel. They stopped for a minute to greet the people gathered and waiting for them.  
_It isn’t a wedding if the bride is on perfect time, _Kate thought fondly, tightening the hold of her own arm on Clara’s. She had made sure to have to stop to sew the hem of her dress again, so that Clara could have a moment to herself, Irene and Sherlock both understanding that it was a created emergency, Irene alone comprehending _why_ it was necessary.  
They made their way to the altar, walking at a slow pace, their backs held upright as the guests admired the bride’s beauty.**  
**  
John gave Sherlock a smile watching Rosie and Sultan with pride. Escorting Harry down the aisle he kissed her cheek taking his place at her side after handing her off to Clara. Mr Fell smiled at everyone taking a moment to quietly praise Rosie and Sultan for their work. **  
  
**‘Dearly beloved,’ he started his voice warm, ‘we are gathered here this day to join in matrimony these two beautiful souls, Harry Elspeth Watson and Clara Wyndham.  
They met each other twelve years ago and quickly did love grow between these two women.’  
  
After asking who gave them away, Aziraphale continued, emotion in his voice.  
‘Clara, do you take Harry to be your wedded wife, to live together in matrimony and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for as long as you both shall live?’  
  
‘Harry,’ he continued, addressing the other bride whose eyes were slightly misty after Clara answered affirmatively, ‘do you take Clara to be your wedded wife, to live together in matrimony and forsaking all others, keep yourself only onto her, for as long as you both shall live?’

After Clara accepted Harry, and Aziraphale reminded them as well as the congregation what marriage implied, both ladies shared a promise to love, comfort, honour and protect their partner as long as they both shall live before sharing their vows to have and to hold the other for better and for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death brings them apart.  
  
After giving their vows, promising to care for each other above all others, to give their love, friendship, and support to the other; and to respect and cherish the other throughout their life together; after a flush took on Harry's cheeks and all she could do to stop her eyes from misting too much was to sniffle, while a similar flush coloured Clara's cheeks as she slightly puffed her chest; after Harry marvelled and treasured the second chance she had found in Clara’s love and forgiveness, and after Clara’s bright smile was reflected in Harry’s; the couple exchanged rings as a sign of their love, trust and marriage before Aziraphale pronounced them bride to each other in front of the teary-eyed congregation.  
  
Accompanied by the best man and the chief bridesmaid, Harry and Clara signed the chapel register, of little importance to them, but still an important first step before the legal contract that was to be signed on the following day.

***

The reception was a lively affair by the time John, Sherlock, and Rosie arrived. Music and laughter spilled from the warmly lit interior. Rosie quickly joined her cousins in a complicated game of tig involving any number of children and dogs. Platters of food passed from person to person on their way to their final destination and drinks flowed freely. John found them a comfortable spot not quite in the thick of things and smiled as he watched everything happen around him, banter and laughter loud in the cosy place. It was nice to be able to relax and have a little fun that wasn’t anything remotely to do with a case.  
  
“I’m sure Rosie won’t mind staying behind tomorrow. She’ll have her cousins to play with and her new ‘pets’ to visit. We’ll only be gone for a few hours.” 

John, still not too comfortable leaving Rosie overnight anywhere but downstairs with Mrs Hudson, especially after she’d been sick over Christmas, tried to comfort and reassure himself with these words as much as he was Sherlock.  
  
“We’ll make a stop at the kilt shop I told you about and get you all fitted. There might be enough to make one for Rosie and a little something for Sultan too.”  
Watching a platter of food go by he glanced at Sherlock. “You hungry? I know you’ve barely eaten today. I can promise you everything’s good. And you really need to try a small glass of Scotch. Better than the good stuff you nicked from Mycroft’s office.”  
He chuckled as he remembered the surprise, the shock that Mycroft had at being… unaware. “The look on his face when he saw Irene…. Not to mention I’m sure he’s still processing the fact that we let her anywhere near Rosie.” Nuzzling Sherlock’s cheek, he draped an arm across his shoulders soaking up the atmosphere.

‘I did eat, John, if you recall,’ Sherlock protested, ‘Sausages and toast. It’s hardly my fault I couldn’t ingest more to your satisfaction,’ he grumbled. ‘I do believe that everything _is_ good, otherwise your family of food-lovers would not have chosen to have this for their reception. I could eat,’ he amended. ‘It does sound appetising,’ he added, perusing the menu as the _entrées_ passed around. ‘Better than the Talisker whiskey bottle I confiscated Mycroft? I will have to try whatever you suggest me. Fine Scotch whiskey is not something I am well-versed in, I’m afraid,’ he admitted.  
As he watched his little girl playing, running after her cousins with Sultan, her clear laugh reaching his ears, he stared into space. ‘I confess I, too, sometimes, am still wondering why we’re letting Irene anywhere near Rosie. It will take time, I suppose,’ he declared dejectedly.  
  
John chuckled watching Rosie dash by with Sultan at her heels. “Irene will be discreet with what she teaches Rosie. You and Irene are a lot alike. She can help hone Rosie’s skills and teach her how to see things from a woman’s point of view, which we can’t do. As much as we’d like to think we can, we just can’t. It’s part of Irene’s way of apologising to you and trying to show she’s changed. She doesn’t have a lot of friends. Just Kate and to an extent Clara and Harry. If she’s really going to change, she’s going to need friends. And someone like Rosie who thinks she’s extraordinary and has no idea who she used to be. Give her a chance. She’s really making an effort.”  
He squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “Believe me, all the food’s amazing. We can share a plate, the portions are massive. As for the whiskey I like the Dalmore. There are almonds, chocolate, cherries, coffee, and treacle tart in it. It’s sweeter than a lot of others. Meant for sipping slowly and not just tossing it down. I think you’ll like it.”  
Kissing his cheek he smiled. “Can’t wait to hear you play and for everyone to know how talented you really are.”

‘Tossing it down like whatever you spiked my drink with, thinking I wouldn’t notice?’ he asked tongue-in-cheek and a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘I grant you, I didn’t notice at the time, you probably noticed that my superior thinking was slightly… impaired,’ he continued without any bite, ‘but I had Molly do the calculations so as neither of us got ill. I did and I know Molly did not do the calculations wrong. As they were based on beers of 443.7 millilitres… something had been added to skew the results. I _had_ worked it out. As you know, I’m not an idiot,’ he concluded proudly, observing a glimmer of _interest_ developing in John’s eyes as his heartbeat grew faster. ‘A talented genius, from your own description,’ he added. ‘Not everyone shares this particular opinion, as you well know, but since you presently feel the desire to show off more than I do, I will endeavour to thrill the audience when I take my violin to play,’ he said throwing a glance towards the safe place he had stored his violin case, keeping it from any harm that could befell it from drinks spilt over it to people knocking into it.**  
  
**“Smug bastard.” John huffed a laugh. “Can’t help it that you being brilliant does things to me. And I didn’t spike them that much. Just enough to level the playing field is all. And don’t worry about your violin. It’s safe where it is and everyone will be careful. The crowd’s not so far gone that they’d knock it over or spill something on it. I know the crowd and I know they’ll appreciate a master musician. It won’t matter what you play so long as it’s fast. But before that I do want you to eat something. Yes, I know you’ve eaten a good breakfast but you haven’t had anything since then. And it’s only a matter of time before Rosie stops long enough to eat. If she knows you didn’t eat or are trying to tell her you’ll eat later, that’s not going to work. You might as well eat. No one’s going to be offended if you try a bit of haggis and it’s not to your liking. Not my favourite thing either, but it’s good. A few steps up from army rations. I’d suggest the Scotch Pie. Old family recipe that’s won multiple awards.”

‘Stop pestering me, dear, I did say I could eat, and I will. I’m not exactly famished yet, but the fresh air we had this morning did wake my appetite up. As something else, as I’m sure you’re aware,’ he added softly, winking at him. ‘I think I’ll follow your advice. Unless… Yes, I’m not hungry enough to ingest such a heavy dish. I’ll go for the salmon instead with the vegetables that go with it. Besides, you don’t want me to be digesting and _slow_.’

John snorted a laugh running his hand along Sherlock’s leg slowly. “No, we can’t have you slowed down. Not when you’re going to play later. Although I’m sure no one else would notice if your playing wasn’t quite as perfect as it usually is. You playing will be the highlight of the evening for most of them.” Kissing his cheek he smiled. “Try and catch Rosie the next time she comes by. I’ll get the fish and chips for her, the salmon for you, and the pie for me. And our drinks.” Nudging his cheek with a smirk John got up to put their order in with the servers.  
  
Sherlock watched John leave the table,his back less taut than it had been during the day, his gait more relaxed since he’d given Harry away. Harry and Clara’s wedding had proven his anxiety wrong: marrying was not necessarily a doomed initiative, provided a strong love united both partners, and John did not abandon him or reproach him for anything he might have been associating with his own failed marriage. If anything, he was noticeably closer to him for everything. Granted, they had not been in a relationship for long, but Sherlock did notice that John’s physical touches were more frequent than a mere week before.  
He watched his kilt-clad behind and the fabric sway on his _hopefully bare _buttocks as he walked. It was, indeed, more forgiving a piece of clothing than a tight pair of trousers, however, Sherlock had quite a vivid imagination and experience as to what was hidden from view.  
He swallowed, wiggled to discreetly adjust himself and tugged at the already loosened collar of his shirt.  
‘Rosie, darling, come and eat! Daddy’s gone to get you a delicious portion of fish and chips,’ he called as Rosie passed by, her cheeks red from all the amusement she’d had.

Quickly climbing up in his lap she smiled at him breathlessly. “What Papa eatins? Sultan eat too? Him needs drink.” Reaching over she scratched Sultan’s ears gently. “We’s been runnins and playins lots!”  
John leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’m sure we can get Sultan a bowl of water. I got you juice. Our food will be here in just a few minutes. Are you having fun?”  
Nodding she smiled. “Lots! Been playins games with cousinses.”  
Laughing he stroked her hair. “Yes, we saw you running and playing with your cousins. I’m glad you’re having fun. Tomorrow you’re going to stay here with your cousins while Papa and I have to go do boring paperwork.”  
Laughing she nodded. “Like Uncle Mycrotoft’s paperworks. Dull,” she huffed in a perfect imitation of Sherlock.  
“Mm maybe so. For now, you need to eat before I steal all your chips.” He snagged one off her plate tapping her nose with it with a grin. 

‘Dull. Exactly so,’ Sherlock confirmed. ‘Paperwork is dull for everyone, especially your uncle Microsoft’s. However, your aunts Harry and Clara will enjoy it, I’m sure, and that is the only time your Daddy and your Papa will do paperwork without grumbling,’ he continued. ‘But you, young lady, will spend an amazing afternoon with your cousins. You will have more time to play. But, before that,’ he said sternly, ‘you must obey your Daddy and eat your chips, as well as your fish. As you can see,’ he added when a server approached their table with John’s and his plates, ‘both your Daddy and your Papa could very well steal your food, and you would be left with nothing to fuel your body enough for energy-consuming games. And then what would you do?’ he asked her in a dramatic voice.   
  
“I steals YOUR food, Papa!” She giggled. “I try fishy? Smells nummy!” 

John thanked the server requesting a bowl of water and a bit of meat and vegetables for Sultan. No reason he couldn’t enjoy the celebration too.  
Rosie nibbled on her piece of fish dipping a chip in the sauce that had been drizzled generously over Sherlock’s piece of salmon. Tasting it she made a face.  
“Yucky. Taste funny.” 

“Here, Rosie, try this.” John offered her a bite of his flavourful meat and crust from the pie. Humming she nodded. 

“Much yummier. Papa try.” John smirked a bit offering Sherlock a bite. 

Sherlock recoiled slightly in front of John’s offering. ‘But…’ he started. ‘These flavours are much too different to be mixed,’ he protested. He relented under John’s insisting look and Rosie’s soon-to-be-angry-and-disappointed look. ‘Fine,’ he huffed rolling his eyes. ‘But I hope the Scotch you’ve recommended I drink will help rinse off the taste before I start eating my salmon,’ he declared, taking the fork off John’s hand.  
‘It is very good,’ he conceded. ‘The taste of meat is quite strong and it’s very hearty, but it’s really nice. One bite from this is all I could muster. Besides, if there is dessert, one should not eat too much and risk filling one’s body too soon,’ he added looking John pointedly in the eyes.  
  
“Sticky toffee puddins an’ shortbread!” Rosie exclaimed as she nodded. “An’ cake!”  
John laughed with a smile. “And if I know Moira, she’s made her famous tablet too. You can have a little of each one, Rosie. _After_ you finish your fish and chips.” He chuckled at Sherlock’s description of the pie with a shrug. “Mmmm perfect for a hearty meal when you’ve worked all day and plan on working hard into the evening. I won’t push you to try haggis or blood pudding just yet. They’re a bit more intense.” Passing Sherlock a glass of Scotch John sipped at his own with a sigh. “This really is my favourite.”

'I trust you on this,' Sherlock declared looking at his glass, turning it this way and that to observe the changes in it caused by the movement. 'It looks bright and strong,' he said before taking it up to his nose and taking a first tentative sip. 'It is delicious,' he stated. 'Strong but sweet as you said. Potent,' he continued with certainty. 'Just like you,' he added in a murmur.

He had loudly voiced his earlier protestations and a few people around them were looking his way, surprise and fascination etched on their faces. 

'I'm certain this is all delicious, but I wish there were lighter options. Needs must, however,' he sighed, ever the drama queen. 'Rosie, I count on your appetite to help me with these sugary enemies when they attack later.'

John watched him with a half smile. “See, knew you’d like the subtle sweetness to the whiskey. As far as the sweets go, my suggestion is we all three share. That way we’ll all get to try the treats, but won’t have to eat the whole thing by ourselves. Because that might be too much sweet stuff all at once. Especially after such an exciting day.”

'Indeed, you were right. Sharing the sweets is a good suggestion, John. Right once more, Captain,' he teased softly. 

Leaning over John kissed Rosie’s cheek. “You and Sultan did a wonderful job. No doubt you two were the stars. And everyone’s very excited to hear Papa play his violin for them.” 

'Thank you, John. That's not stressful at all,' he grumbled.  
  
Rosie nodded. “Papa play Touch th’ Sky from Brave? Pease! It’s my mostest favoritest song! An’ it Scottish!!! Pease!!!!!!!!”  
  
John snorted a laugh smiling. “Well, what he plays is up to Papa, but you asked very nicely. I like how you said please.”

'You did, Rosie,' Sherlock confirmed. 'I think it's a very good song. Can I trust you to ask your cousins to sing it with you when I play it? Your aunts will be delighted with the message,' he continued, proud of Rosie's request. 'I might play something else,' he added for John's benefit after a short pause. 'We can't have your family disappointed by any lack of talent on my part, can we?' 

John smiled. “I can promise you they’re going to love whatever you play. You’re family, that counts for a lot. Play as little or as much as you like and they’ll be thrilled by it, I promise you that. I’m sure the whole crowd will love the song and be especially proud that you taught it to Rosie in Gaelic and took the trouble to do it.” He smiled at Rosie. “Remember what I’ve said about the words?” 

Nodding she smiled. “If I don’ ‘member, it ok, jus’ keep singins an’ havin’ funs singins while Papa plays. Right Papa?” 

Looking up at Sherlock she was all but bouncing in her seat, eager to show off that she could at least sing one song in Gaelic and was quickly getting to the point she could almost speak it as well as they did. 

“And I will be right here watching you two. Show Uncle Mycroft how smart you are and how much fun your language lessons with Papa have been.” 

Sherlock inhaled softly and gave them a small smile. 'Time to inform everyone, Rosie darling,' he announced as he got up to retrieve his violin in the far corner of the room. 

After he'd prepared his bow and instrument, he placed it on his shoulder to tune it. As he watched the crowd, he caught John's eye who smiled at him and raised his glass in encouragement. Irene and Kate nodded at him, eager to hear him play while Harry and Clara beamed at him, clapping enthusiastically in anticipation for the display of Sherlock's sheer talent that John had kept lauding. Sitting quiet as a mouse, dressed in a pale, unassuming coral dress, was Molly. She had come to support him as she had promised she would. He'd never doubted her presence, but a warm sensation spread in his chest when he saw that she had not forgotten. He looked intently at her and smiled, conveying his thanks for being there.  
  
Molly sat with Greg and Mycroft giving a small wave to Sherlock. Wrapping Rosie in a warm hug and complimenting her pretty dress she smiled encouragingly. Rosie rounded up her cousins whispering loudly about the plan. It seemed she’d quickly become the default leader of the group, especially when it came to this. Hurrying back to Sherlock she smiled. 

“We gonna sing. Dey know most th’ words. I know lots of dem. You play good,” she encouraged him with a bright smile completely confident that he could do anything. He was her Papa after all and Papa was brilliant. It was that simple.  
  
A couple of her cousins had gathered some of the other musicians. There was a guitar, two drummers, a set of Uilleann pipes, and two more fiddle players ready to accompany Sherlock. The tune was simple enough and they’d be able to follow along adding to the melody. They nodded to Sherlock, eager to play with a well-known and talented musician.

The guitarist started playing a few bars of the same repeated rhythm while Sherlock gently placed the bow on the strings before moving it, the pace of the music fast from the beginning, repeated the rhythms as well until all the children were ready to join them.  
As they did, the pipers joined in to accompany them, making the piece a lively affair when the fiddlers added the voice of their instruments on the choruses. The children sang with a happy energy, and transported by the music they quickly left their seats to dance, bouncing up and down as the notes swelled.

Despite the piece being easy, Sherlock was concentrated on his playing, more than on what was happening around him. He had never played with other people before and was somewhat destabilised but eased into it with the help of everyone’s happy dancing, tapping their feet and the rapidly moving music.  
As the violin holding the melody, Sherlock was the centre of attention to this musical gathering and showed it with a growing smile on his face and by joining in the dancing, even if in a somewhat calmer way than the crowd in front of him.

When transitioning from one part of the song to the other, the children continued dancing to the sound of the only instrument remaining: Sherlock’s violin.  
He caught John’s eyes who was looking at him with pride in his eyes and flush on his cheeks. Sherlock, happy to see his partner so pleased and proud of him, played with more fervour as the music continued on for more joy in the children’s singing and dancing. 

Sherlock held the last note for as long as he could and the pipers repeated the chorus at a decreased tempo and volume to smoothly finish the song Rosie had requested.  
The audience, who had clapped when the children sang the choruses, was transported and applauded fiercely when the last note rang. Several guests whistled and banged on the table to show their appreciation, giving an excellent reason for the two fiddlers to start playing again at an even faster pace. Sherlock joined once more after a few bars even though improvising music was not his forte: he knew only a few Scottish folklore songs and had no idea how to start. John mouthed to let go, and so he did.

Rosie giggled carefully tackling Sherlock’s legs and holding on to him. Everyone loved to hear Papa play. Of course they did. He was amazing. Smiling up at him she blew a kiss before hurrying off to tell Molly all about her new ‘pets’.  
  
Leaning back in his seat John watched Sherlock with pride. While Sherlock might not think he was good at improvising music or playing with other musicians he’d been very wrong and John couldn’t have been prouder of him. It might have seemed like a small thing but John knew it hadn’t been easy. When the other musicians played familiar folk songs Sherlock picked up the harmony adding depth and flourishes to the familiar tunes.  
  
After a few more songs the musicians took a short break and John made his way through the crowd that had formed around Sherlock that included the musicians. He slid his arm around Sherlock’s waist and smiled. “You were brilliant. I knew you would be. Brought you something to drink.”

Sherlock leaned into John’s firm touch on his waist and let out a soft breath as he extended his hand to take the drink John had just offered him.  
'This isn’t spiked, is it?’ he teased. ‘I am glad you enjoyed the performance. Everyone seemed to, but I’m especially glad _you_ did,’ he purred. ‘I could sense emotional support through the crowd and it helped me quite a bit,’ he continued, taking John’s hand in his while everyone around was mingling and talking to each other. ‘I could rest, too. These fingers have played long enough. On the violin,’ he clarified.  
  
John chuckled. “It’s just a dash of that whiskey you enjoyed. And I’ve got a bottle of water for you too. Thought you might need both. You were incredible.” Smiling he raised Sherlock’s hand to his lips kissing the knuckles lightly. “I know you’re not used to playing with a group or improvising on something that’s not a piece of your own you’re working on, but that was incredible. It’s not every night a crowd gets going like this. Oh, they always appreciate the music but this was special.” He stroked his thumb over the pulse point in Sherlock’s wrist. “I see Molly managed to make it after all. It was nice of you to invite her for a little moral support. And it’s good to see her having fun. She’ll be taken in as one of the clan in no time. Especially at Rosie insisting that her other auntie be part of the family too.”  
  
Molly made her way over being half dragged by Rosie. “Daddy! Papa! Look!! Aunt Mowwy tame!!!!” 

Molly laughed smiling a bit bashfully. “I almost didn’t make it on time. Lovely wedding.” 

John smiled scooping Rosie up. “All right you, let’s go find some shortbread biscuit. I think Papa deserves something sweet after playing like that. We’ll be back in a minute.” Trailing Rosie through the crowd, he waved at several people.  
  
Smiling at Sherlock, Molly looked around. “And Irene’s here… Of all people… I won’t even ask why or how... Are you doing all right? With all of this? Wedding and all…” she waved a hand to generally indicate the rather boisterous crowd.

‘Thank you for coming, Molly. I’m really glad you did. The people I’ve met are nice in an entry level Scotland Yard sort of way, and very accepting. Well, you know John,’ he continued. ‘He’s adored by everyone in his family. Apparently so am I, as well, although I do not quite understand why,’ he declared taking several gulps from the bottle of water John had brought him. ‘Weddings are not my thing, as you know, especially since the last one, but I’ve surprisingly found that unexpected people would support me in adversity, starting with none other but Irene Adler. Wife to the chief bridesmaid,’ he added as Molly clearly still struggled to understand her presence here. ‘I’ve not entirely warmed up to her, but apparently she is really trying to make amends and I am told I should give her a chance. And so I am,’ he concluded.  
‘John’s great-aunt,’ he indicated her general direction with his bow, ‘is our host. She has taken an immediate dislike of Mycroft’s manners and recognised my absolute superiority between him and I. I’m not certain of the logical reason which prompted her to make such an enlightened decision,’ he rambled, ‘but I approve of it.’ He fidgeted with his bow, turning it this way and that.  
  
“Will wonders never cease. Irene Adler, turning over a new leaf. Well, I suppose everyone deserves a second chance if they’re willing to change.” Giggling she nodded. “I suppose she was quickly able to suss out that Mycroft’s… well, Mycroft. And I’m sure she’s heard all about him through John. John and Harry are her favourites, right?’ Sherlock acquiesced.  
‘I seem to remember John mentioning it,’ she continued. ‘Although he didn’t mention she had such a lovely home. If John’s one of her favourites, and you’re with John, and Mycroft’s meddling has upset you and John, of course she’s taken a liking to you. And you _are_ likable, Sherlock.”  
Watching John and Rosie who was seated on the bar with a cup of juice and a shortbread biscuit she smiled. “He seems happy. Things are going well for you two? Even though weddings don’t have the best memories for either of you?”

‘Yes, I should think we are. So far, neither of us has had a chance to stop and really think. Well, _John_ hasn’t. He is the best man, after all. I can only dread the role. There are _two_ brides, Molly!’ he exclaimed. ‘Double the…,’ he gestured in the air as he tried to find the right word before settling for ‘emotions. What a nightmare! John is strong and pragmatic,’ he continued his eyes roving over John’s form and lingering on the traditional Scottish wear he was sporting. ‘He soldiered on and deserves to lay his duties to rest,’ he said with finality.**  
  
**Molly laughed. “I’m sure emotions were running high. Everyone seems very happy though. I’m sure John’s happy to see his sister happy. And Rosie seems to be having plenty of fun with her cousins. I’ll keep an eye on Rosie if you and John need a few minutes to talk. I’m happy for you, Sherlock. You deserve to be happy. And so does John. Looks like you’re well on your way.” 

‘On our way to what?’ he enquired with a touch of anxiety to his voice.  
  
“To being a happy, stable couple. And amazing fathers.” She smiled watching Rosie. “Just look at how happy she is. Utterly fearless and happy. Rosie’s incredibly well adjusted. You’re doing a wonderful job with her, Sherlock. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen John this relaxed and happy.”  
  
John made his way over with Rosie ahead of him carrying a plate of shortbread biscuits. John carried drinks for himself and Molly, along with some more juice for Rosie. Handing Molly her drink he slid his free arm around Sherlock, offering him a piece of shortbread. “Just a nibble. It’s not overly sweet but will melt in your mouth,” he purred with a smirk. 

‘How can I refuse my doctor’s orders?’ Sherlock purred back, his voice dipping to a slightly lower register and his voice intently fixed on John’s. He took the offered sugary treat brushing his fingers against John’s as he did so.  
  
“You’re doing that on purpose. Bloody jaguar,” John muttered under his breath with a snort of laughter. “We’ll see just how good you are at taking orders and following them to the letter.”

Watching them Molly giggled. “Rosie, why don’t you introduce me to your cousins. And you can take some shortbread biscuits to your Uncle Mycroft.”  
  
Rosie smiled. “And meets Aunty Addy toos! She very nice! An’ she no like Uncle Mycrotoft tause he bossy!”  
  
Trying not to laugh, Molly nodded. “Well, yes, I’m sure he is but he’s still your uncle.”   
  
Rosie smiled. “Yeah. I loves Uncle Mycrotoft lots!!”  
  
Taking Molly’s hand she proudly carried the plate of shortbread to Mycroft and Greg. Greg smiled kissing Molly’s cheek and making a spot for her at their table. Rosie climbed up in Mycroft’s lap happily sharing her biscuits.  
  
Watching them John snickered. “She really does love Mycroft. And I think she’s picked up on needling him.” Slipping his hand in Sherlock’s he squeezed. “Come with me. It’ll be quieter where we’re going.”  
Gently tugging him to a small back room that was used to store random odds and ends he pressed Sherlock firmly against the wall with a muffled thump kissing him hotly. “You were so bloody perfect...”

Sherlock immediately went pliant under John’s assault, letting his head fall backwards and exposing his neck. He replied to the kiss with as much fervour as John and moaned into it as John guided their exchange and his hands roamed on Sherlock’s body. Unwilling to pass the opportunity that John was presenting him with, Sherlock brought his own hands directly to John’s crotch and pulled up his kilt.  
‘Not going Commando, Sir?’ he asked feeling rather disappointed. ‘I had wild hopes you were,’ he continued pressing his hand against the tight fabric and used his other hand to bring him closer so John could feel his rapidly growing desire which only increased when John took hold of both his hands and pinned them above Sherlock’s head.  
  
John chuckled pressing into Sherlock. “Yeah, well, when you’re running after a toddler and might have to pick her up at any second... didn’t exactly want to chance flashing my bits to the entire clan. Didn't think you’d appreciate them knowing just what it is that’s all yours. I usually have a good reason for doing things a certain way. And while we’re on the subject… You in that suit… Looks like you were poured into it. Sets off the darkness of your hair and the colour of your eyes,” he purred. “Maybe I should spread the rumour you’re actually a _bean nighe_, a banshee. Might keep them away. I’ve seen no shortage of appreciative looks being thrown your way. Wonder what your response would be if someone decided that they’d try and steal you from me? Hm...” He nipped along his neck leaving marks that would be apparent to anyone.

‘As if you really needed to ask…’ Sherlock said, his voice somewhat ragged. ‘Or would you prefer I show you when it inevitably happens?’ he asked cockily, moaning under John’s mouth. ‘I must say… I like when you’re… being territorial. Captain.’  
  
“Oh I’m pretty certain of your response. Probably the same you had to Irene trying to seduce you.” He snorted a laugh. “Not sure how she managed to misread you so badly, but it was amusing.'

'I don't recall you being very much amused,' Sherlock retorted. 

John snorted. “Oh, I wasn’t amused then but watching her try and play her game with you was amusing. The way that you were _not _falling for any of her usual ploys. I was much more concerned when the men showed up with guns and we almost got shot.”

"But now that we’re official, I think we both know it wouldn’t be pretty if someone tried to move in on my territory.” He nipped along Sherlock’s neck with a teasing growl. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine from the beginning. We were both too stupid to see it. Going to keep you all to myself. For good. Just mine.” John rolled his hips against Sherlock’s slowly.

‘Only yours,’ Sherlock repeated. ‘You know I don’t… ah… want anyone else,’ he responded, rolling his own hips in response to John’s stimulation and wiggling under his hold, almost keening as he did so. 

John smirked pressing against Sherlock again and tightening the grip he had on his wrists by a fraction. “Ah but then there’s the other people. Hm. Moriarty. Magnussen. People who don’t know the meaning of no and that you’re very much taken.’ 

Sherlock started to whimper in protest. ‘Never taken them, I swear. You know I didn’t. Never would have,’ he mumbled.

‘And I do _not _like when other people try and take what’s mine,” John rumbled kissing Sherlock hotly. “Always been mine and I was too blind to see it. Can bet I’m going to make sure that changes and everyone knows that you’re mine. You’ve been teasing me all day and I’ve finally got a chance to give you a taste of your own medicine.”  
He smirked grinding against Sherlock slowly. “Everyone’s having too much fun to even notice we’re gone. And it’s a good thing it’s plenty loud out there or else I’m sure everyone would know exactly what’s going on in here,” he husked in Sherlock’s ear, nipping at his earlobe.

‘Wouldn’t you want to be sure that doesn’t happen?’ he tried to retort insolently, the effect falling short through his moaning. ‘You know I’m rather… vocal and can’t control myself well when you’re… taking control like this,’ he elaborated as John’s left hand remained pinning Sherlock’s against the wall while he brought his right hand under his kilt to free himself from his underwear and guided his cock against Sherlock’s.  
  
“And just when I think you can’t get much bossier, you prove me wrong. Very wrong. I’m sure our presence won’t be missed for some time. We really should make the best of it. And looking at the state of you I’d take a guess you’re more than done waiting. Which is a damn good thing because so am I.” John rubbed against Sherlock slowly taking a great deal of enjoyment out of seeing his detective’s brain quickly going offline. “As if I’d want you to control yourself. Now or ever.” Panting he wrapped his hand around both of them stroking as he rolled his hips. “Been thinking about this since I saw you in this suit. But I’d much rather have you out of it. Or at least half of it.”  
Doing a quick inventory of the room John smirked. There was an old sofa that had seen better days but would be more than good enough for now. “We’re moving over there.” He jerked his head toward the sofa. “You’re going to get out of those trousers that make your arse look amazing and your pants too, while you’re at it. Then I want you to bend over the sofa, your hands on it, each side of your head. That’s it,’ he complimented as Sherlock did what he was bid, ‘Now let me see your arse. Gorgeous. Delicious,’ he said as he kneaded the flesh firmly and spread Sherlock’s cheeks apart before tracing the contours of his arsehole with his fingers and tongue.

Sherlock shuddered in pleasure at John’s ministrations and moaned as his tongue breached slightly into him.  
‘J-John…’ he breathed softly, panting as John’s eager tongue worked the delicate flesh of his arsehole and his hands squeezed and rubbed vigorously the quickly reddening flesh of Sherlock’s arse cheeks. ‘So… good…’ he bit his lips to silence himself when John let go of his hole to bite on the now soft meat.  
  
He bit only hard enough to give Sherlock a bit of a shock and leave a light mark that would fade soon enough. Running his hands along Sherlock’s thighs he smirked nipping. Hands slowly sliding over Sherlock he fumbled for the small bottle of lube he’d stashed in the sporran of his kilt. Judging by the way Sherlock was trembling and how ragged his breathing was he was definitely well on his way to not thinking about anything and just feeling. And enjoying.  
  
Applying a thin coat of lube to his cock he held Sherlock’s hips tightly pushing in with one snap of his hips. “Always so tight and hot for me,” he growled nipping at his shoulder as he thrust deeply, resulting in Sherlock letting a cry escape, so intense were the situation as well as the sensations. After all, even though Sherlock was having regular sex now, he had spent years not getting involved in any carnal activities: his body was not yet used to having intimate relations so often, much less that intense.

‘For a time,’ he replied in between jerky breaths. ‘Tight… for a time,’ he repeated, ’till I get… stretched, Captain. Only… for you.’

John pressed his cheek against Sherlock’s shoulder with a jerky nod as his hands gripped his hips tightly. “Only for me. That’s right. Only for me. Going to make sure you’d never even consider anyone else.” He kept his tight grip on Sherlock’s lean hips squeezing and massaging the slight roll of fat and muscle over them. Thanks to regular meals Sherlock had lost his too skinny appearance and now looked trim and healthy. “So fucking beautiful,” John panted as he thrust deeply into Sherlock. “Won’t take you long. Have you nice and loosened up soon. You’re already relaxed. Move with me,” he husked in Sherlock’s ear. “Love when you move with me.” Reaching around he stroked Sherlock’s hard cock. “So hard for me. Been wanting this all day. Nice we’re finally getting what we want.”

Sherlock groaned as he moved his hips in rhythm to meet John’s at the rough, steady pace he’d set now that Sherlock was properly relaxed. ‘And yet… you held an impresssive… fassade… Handy, that kilt… Better let go of… the tension and… let go… yess….’ Sherlock started babbling as John teased the tip of his cock as he nipped along his neck.

John chuckled rolling his hips as he teased Sherlock before snapping his hips sharply and stroking Sherlock’s cock slowly with a twist of his wrist as he did.  
“Oh you can believe I’m going to be letting go of a lot of tension. And so are you. You’ve been on edge all day. We’re going to take care of that. You’re going to let go too. You’re getting there.” He ground against him slowly teasing his cock and nipping along his neck leaving several more marks on Sherlock’s pale skin. “You feel so fucking good,” John rumbled in Sherlock’s ear before quickly settling into a faster pace again when he felt Sherlock relax a bit more. Pressing Sherlock into the cushions he groaned, able to press deeper and tease Sherlock more in the altered position.

Words escaping him, his groans being muffled by the cushions his face was pressed against, Sherlock punched the sofa demonstrating the pleasure he could not otherwise communicate. He stuck his arse higher up to meet with John’s hips and encouraged by John’s hands at the small of his back, arched his back to receive him deeper, allowing John more chance to hit his prostate, desperately hoping he would soon and repeatedly.

John smirked hands sliding along Sherlock’s hips and ribs. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. He loved when Sherlock was so willing to stop thinking, and overthinking, and just let himself go.  
“Good, Sherlock, good.” Praising Sherlock’s shift in position and the way he was meeting every thrust he nipped his shoulder lightly. Thrusting deep and hard he made sure to hit Sherlock’s prostate with every thrust teasing him and keeping him on edge. “Swear you’re better every time. Brilliant.”

Still unable to form coherent thoughts let alone utter them, Sherlock moaned, his body trembling as another wave of pleasure coursed through him as John hit his prostate once more and teased him, ever so slowly pulling on the skin of his cockhead, tightening his hand when he came down to the head. Sherlock’s toes clenched, as did every other muscle in his body.  
John was so good, so talented and orgasm was close, so close and yet so far as to seem unattainable. He groaned and sighed in frustration at chasing a pleasure that seemed to elude him.

John ran a hand along Sherlock’s hip as he pressed deep into him shifting slightly to keep teasing him. As much as he wanted and ached for release there was no way he was going to let this be over too soon.   
“Patience is a virtue, Sherlock,” he half-teased tangling a hand in Sherlock’s dark curls and tugging slightly. “You are beautiful.” Trailing kisses across Sherlock’s back he lightly nudged at a few of the nearly invisible scars. He was going to replace every bad thing, especially the bad things he’d done to him, with good things. And that definitely included this. Of teasing and making Sherlock feel so good and making him come so hard he forgot his own name. Giving a twist to his wrist he stroked Sherlock firmly nipping his ear and making sure to rub teasingly against his prostate. “Mm just aching for it, aren’t you…. Can feel how close you are to the edge. Just standing right there. Going to let go for me? Let me feel how good you can come for me.”

Sherlock groaned and closed his eyes as he felt yet another spasm of pleasure run through him, he clutched the fabric beneath him, so hard his knuckles turned white. He bucked into John's hand as the teasing touches and caresses had turned into a serious, firm handling; harshly gasping under John's unyielding, unwavering possession and unadulterated worship, Sherlock keened as he grunted for John to come closer, deeper into him, to reduce the distance between their already united bodies.  
  
John was holding on by the thinnest of threads using every trick he knew of to keep himself from coming just yet. It was working, barely but he was trying to focus on making this as good for Sherlock as possible. “Yes, you like that, don’t you. Like me filling you up like this. So deep there’s nothing between us.” He twisted his wrist sliding his hand over Sherlock’s cock that was dripping in his hand. “Almost there, almost there, aren’t you? Going to make you come so hard. Can’t wait to feel you,” he growled deeply rising almost on his toes as he drove into Sherlock and angling his hips.

Rough, senseless, babbled grunts muffled by the pillow Sherlock was biting was all the indication of the rapture he was in that Sherlock was able to express. His body was trembling under John’s, the smell of sweat and sex permeating the air. He was acutely aware of every sensation, from the sharp touch of John’s hips to his backside, to the sound of his heavy breathing as John rammed into him, the fast, regular pace he had set turned slower but deeper.  
Sherlock could feel John holding a tight lead on his own pleasure. He wanted John to let go only when his own ecstasy took over, claiming its freedom.  
He groaned as he felt his hormones rush in his veins, all his muscles tightening, his heart skipping beats and John’s impossibly heavy cock harshly, vigorously sunk into him.**  
  
**John gave a slight twist to his hips, a move he knew never failed to send Sherlock from balancing on the edge of the cliff to going straight off it. Combined with a twist of his wrist in the opposite direction of his hips he knew it wouldn’t take much more for Sherlock to come. He was only hanging on by the thinnest of threads and he always made it a point that Sherlock came first. His hands were no doubt leaving bruises on Sherlock’s hips and there were a number of marks across his shoulders and up his neck. Raking his teeth over Sherlock’s ear he growled deeply. “Mine.” 

‘Y-yours,’ Sherlock agreed in a strangled moan, his skin warm, almost burning after John’s delectable treatment and claim of his possession, the sting of the numerous streaks and blemishes he’s left across his body very much present, no matter how superficial.  
‘J-John, I’m…’ he started in a constrained whisper when the tension of his mounting pleasure broke, washing through him in waves of released endorphins, serotonin and sentiment.

John held on to Sherlock’s hips pressed deep inside him, eyes closed as he finally allowed himself to let go and hopefully managed to increase Sherlock’s pleasure. Panting he called Sherlock’s name hoarsely as he shuddered against him hands stroking and caressing. Collapsing over Sherlock's back he nuzzled at the sweat-damp curls. Unwilling to let go of him just yet he held Sherlock close kissing along his neck gently.

Breathless in John’s embrace, Sherlock let his body crumple onto the sofa, John’s brushes and caresses bringing ripples of pleasure on his quivering body. He sighed loudly as John brushed his lips and blew on the hot skin of his neck. He moved ever so slowly, groggy as his limbs were, and made John hold him closer and tighter  
‘Made everything go silent,’ he whispered.  
  
John smirked kissing along Sherlock’s neck softly and nuzzling his wild mop of curls. “Mm… Did I? Good on me. Your brain’s always a busy, noisy place. Glad I can help you find a bit of peace and quiet now and then. You were amazing. Never get over how responsive you are,” he murmured in Sherlock’s ear, voice a low rumble. "Every time I think this couldn’t possibly be better, you prove me wrong and it’s even more amazing. Don’t know how you manage it.” Lightly running his hand over Sherlock’s chest he let his hand press gently over the small divot where he’d been shot. “Never letting you go again…” he promised softly. “Never.” Propping himself up a bit he looked down at Sherlock stroking his cheek. “You ok?” John frowned slightly with a bit of doctorly concern noticing a faint trace of tears in Sherlock’s eyes and on his cheeks.

'How could I not be?' he replied his voice less breathless but still a murmur. 'My brain is silent, I'm well-spent after this devastatingly powerful sex, consequently so high on hormones that the afterglow of sex with you is actually mind-altering,' he elaborated. 'Why would you think I'm not?' he enquired softly. 'I'm offended on your behalf.'**  
  
**Resting his head on Sherlock’s shoulder he snickered nuzzling his cheek softly. “I always have said you’ll outlive God trying to have the last word. Just making sure I wasn’t too rough and actually hurt you. You know that is the last thing I want to happen. Especially if it’s at my hands. Or any part of me. You’re beautiful. You have any idea how beautiful you are and how much I love you?” Holding Sherlock close he sighed with a smile. “I meant it. I am never letting you go again. Not ever. My beautiful love.” Humming he kissed just under Sherlock ear voice warm and deep like a good drink of Scotch. “_Mo chridhe, m ’anam, mo shaoghal, mo ghaol, m’ fhear_.”

‘I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m not fluent in Gaelic. Not when the pronunciation is … altered,’ he chuckled. ‘Clearly possession and, if I’m not _entirely_ mistaken, sentiment. You’ll have to tell me more when you’ve sobered up. Clearly I’m not the only one affected by a high of hormones,’ he said softly, sighing and adding a tender hum at the end of his sentence  
  
“Altered?” John snickered. “Can’t help it. If your brain isn’t fully functioning, think about how mine’s doing right now. Possession and sentiment. You’re mine, I’m yours, you’re not getting rid of me. Ever. Not leaving you again.” He hummed lazily running his fingers over Sherlock’s chest and burying his nose in Sherlock’s hair. “Can’t wait to get you in a kilt. Then the tables are going to be turned. And Rosie will be thrilled with getting her own kilt.”

‘You do know I’ll wear a kilt only if you insist, hm?’ he asked before turning on his side, face to John. ‘I never planned on getting rid of you, John. _Never_,’ he repeated, taking John’s hand in a feeble hold and pressing a soft kiss to it. ‘I agree. _Mo ghaol._ My love, isn’t it?’ he wondered aloud, brushing the tips of his fingers against John’s arm. ‘I return the sentiment, you know. Something tells me there’s more sentiment in what you said. What was that last word?’ he asked, curiosity laced in his words.

John smiled kissing the tip of Sherlock’s nose. “Well, it can cover a variety of things. It means beloved and soulmate, partner in all things. Not sure there’s exactly a precise one-word translation for it in English. More just a feeling. Your brain _must_ still be offline if you’re so willing to talk sentiment,” he teased brushing his lips against Sherlock’s. 

‘Mh, you’re far from being innocent in this matter,’ Sherlock retorted lightly, a smile on his lips.

"You’ll learn it soon enough. I promise.” Running his hand through Sherlock’s curls he kissed him slowly. “So in love with you.”  
  
Sherlock reciprocated the kiss slowly, tenderly, letting his lips partly open for John to explore him, to take possession of his lips. ‘You’ve no idea how much I do, as well,’ he replied. ‘Don’t you go and try to scare me off with all these feelings, it won’t work. You know I’m stubborn, especially where you’re concerned,’ he declared, his would-be haughty tone highly at odds with the look of enraptured adoration in his eyes. 

“As if I could scare you off at this point. You’ve been with me through the worst times of my life. You’ve given me a home and a family. You’ve stepped up with Rosie and couldn’t be more amazing with her. If a toddler’s not enough to scare anyone off, nothing is,” he chuckled running his hand through Sherlock’s damp curls as he kissed him slowly. “After all the hell we’ve been through, I think we deserve to have a little peace and stability.”  
  
‘Hm, yes. I couldn’t agree more. Playing the game brought us together and after losing some very harsh defeats we _do_ deserve winning. I’ve always been a sore loser, as I’m sure you’ve come to know.’

John smiled stealing another slow kiss. “Mm and the game is _never_ over, never. Seems we’ve finally got a winning hand.”  
  
Rolling his eyes at the pounding on the door he sighed. “I suppose all good things must come to an end...”  
Harry pounded on the door again. “Johnny, you and Sherlock have about thirty seconds to make yourselves presentable or so help me I WILL come in there! It’s getting late and we need to do the final toast of the night so everyone can go and get some sleep. Including me, my wife, you, Sherlock, Kate, and Irene. We’ve got a lot to do first thing in the morning. You’re down to about fifteen seconds now.”  
  
John snorted kissing Sherlock. “Harriet Watson, if you set one toe in here you’ll get to see a hell of a lot more of me and Sherlock than you ever wanted. Give us a couple of minutes to be at least half decent and we’ll be out.” Getting up slowly he sighed.  
“I swear she gets bossier by the day!"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Aftermath, part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for 'adding' a chapter, the last one is too long; we've cut it in two.  
Rest assured, all is well. The end (of the story) is near!  
We hope you are all doing well.

**** The wedding party had slowly started to falter: the guests’ elation and joviality were mostly remnants of the previous hours, their faces still showed the energy spent and the alcohol consumed but it had taken its toll and exhaustion came upon them.   
  
Harry smiled her arm loosely around Clara’s waist. “We wanted to thank you all for being here with us tonight to celebrate. It means so much that we’re surrounded by so many of our family and friends on what I know is the happiest day of my life. Please be safe getting back to wherever you’re staying. 

May you have -

Walls for the wind

And a roof for the rain,

And drinks bedside the fire

Laughter to cheer you

And those you love near you,

And all that your heart may desire.”

  
The hall was emptying steadily, almost all women retreated to their rooms barefoot, themselves and their companions rarely steady on their feet.

Mac smiled softly gently cradling a sleeping Rosie and Sultan who were wrapped in his  tonnag. He’d make sure they’d get tucked snugly into the spare room at the small, comfortable home he shared with Moira.

  
Mycroft Holmes had taken his jacket off and even loosened his tie while his partner had discarded his own jacket and tie and opened the first two buttons on his shirt. Gregory Lestrade was helped out to his room by the Queen’s representative who held himself straight, using his ever faithful umbrella as a cane and shaking his head. It had been evident from Gregory’s behaviour that he needed to relax. Chancing on his reflection in a mirror as they made their way to their room, he wondered whether he should indulge in foregoing his closed-off air from time to time to enjoy and relax in areas other than sexual encounters, although only in controlled or at least safe situations. At home with Gregory.    
He decided to breach the subject to Gregory on the following day after he’d got his undoubtedly violent headache and strong hangover under control.   
He opened the door to their room, undressed and helped Gregory to bed before joining him under the covers.

Molly Hooper, who had come to this wedding as a gesture of friendship and support to Sherlock, was staying on her own at a nearby hotel, uncaring for the comfort which the rooms of Lady Adelaide’s Estate provided. She had profusely explained to the hostess that she did not wish to impose and that she would be gone on the following morning, which of course Lady Adelaide disagreed with and qualified of nonsense, idiotic reasoning and insisted she forget this silly notion. Molly had witnessed Sherlock fending others off often enough to be able to hold her own, although with more grace and much less rudeness.

She had come on her own and had shed a few polite tears when the brides had exchanged their vows, had rejoiced at seeing everyone enjoying themselves, even though weddings did not hold good memories to neither John nor Sherlock whom she had half expected to see either of them, or both, in anguish by the time the party started. Sherlock however had surprised her by his calm demeanour and barely noticeable anxiety, which she was aware merely pertained to his playing with other musicians, in front of an expectant crowd.

Mostly gone was the man cutting himself off from the outside world to contain the pain that she could see on his face brought about by the strength of his feelings and emotions. He was still rude and abrasive, but he was evidently calmer and had settled down since John had come back living to 221b with Rosie and even more so when they had opened their eyes, Sherlock finding his feelings returned by John.

  
She congratulated the happy newlyweds and, after failing to locate Sherlock and John, joined a group of people who had gone outside to catch a bit of fresh air so she could catch the taxi she had called to bring her to her hotel.

Aziraphale sighed happily looking a bit tired from all the blessings he’d given out during the evening. Crowley glanced over at him appearing more than a bit pleased with all his tempting for the night. “You all right, angel?”    
Blinking a few times Aziraphale nodded. “What? Oh. Yes. Yes. I do love weddings. And they’re all so happy…”

Irene Adler and Kate Callan were still talking animatedly, holding a glass of champagne and looking as fresh as they had at the start of the day even though the hour had turned past two in the morning and the youngest of the children had been claimed by sleep long before.    
As chief bridesmaid, Kate - and therefore Irene - had to stay with the newlyweds even as all the other bridesmaids had retreated with whoever had caught their attention.   
‘I suppose the best man has given up on tradition. I cannot...,’ Kate started declaring in a defeated sigh.   
‘Actually, I can,’ Irene chimed in, a smirk on her face. ‘He seems to have created traditions of his own,’ she added as John held a possessive arm around Sherlock’s waist as they walked past a group of young men. Sherlock held his head higher, letting the marks John had left on his neck earlier show.    
‘You would think _ these two _ are newlyweds,’ she declared before turning her attention back to Kate who was moving towards Harry and Clara who looked exhausted. Radiant, but exhausted.

_ *** _ _   
_ _   
  
_

Once he’d opened the door to their room, Sherlock let his jacket and tie fall to the floor, while John went inside and took his time to undress.    
Sherlock felt a thrill running up his spine when John took his kilt off, revealing the bare skin underneath it Sherlock had revelled in for most of the party after John had pressed his pants in Sherlock’s hands with a wink.   
Watching John undress was a magnificent tableau, filled with military precision and tender care.   
Sherlock couldn’t help but feel his heart warm while a heat gathered in his belly. He smiled as he undressed with less care than John; he was too exhausted, emotionally speaking, to care for his clothes as he usually did. He quickly went to the bathroom before settling into bed, waiting for John to join him and garner him in his protective arms.   
  
  


John smiled, burrowing his nose into Sherlock’s curls arm snugly around him and holding Sherlock in place against him.    
“Best wedding I’ve ever been to...” he murmured softly, half-asleep and still high on endorphins after their time in the store room and a glass or two of whiskey.    
“Next wedding, I’m marrying you. You will marry me, won’t you? I’d really like that. ‘M sorry I messed it up last time,” he mumbled. “Get home an’ marry you. Make Mycroft get all the papers done. He’s convenient sometimes.”    
Giggling a bit he let his hand rest over Sherlock’s heart. “Gonna make you William Sherlock Holmes Watson soon as we’re back.”

‘William Sherlock  _ Scott _ Holmes,’ he corrected in a somewhat detached way, ‘or weren’t you listening?’ he added light teasing to his tone, and missing John’s words by several light years. ‘Your sister’s wedding  _ was _ far superior to yours, with some moments rather… enjoyable,’ he continued a contented smile spread on his face as he basked in the warmth of John’s tenderness.   
  
“William Sherlock  _ Scott _ Holmes Watson, then.” John giggled. “Getting a bit long and convoluted. I like it though. Name’s almost as long as you’re tall,” he teased holding Sherlock close. “And yes, there were several moments tonight that were very enjoyable. Not least of all watching you play that song for Rosie. You are a damn good father. Don’t ever believe  _ anyone _ who tries to say differently. And of course our private celebration was incredible.”    
Smirking he nuzzled one of the marks he’d left on Sherlock’s neck. “Love it you know. Connecting with you like that, making your brain go completely offline for a bit.”    
Yawning hugely John pressed kisses along Sherlock’s jaw more than half asleep.

Sherlock smiled, feeling John’s muscles soften and relax, and let his body sag against John’s. ‘That’s one thing I never expected to ever enjoy and you proved me wrong. However, I think that “connecting” is not quite accurate, if you really want to describe it. I would say we unite, which is slightly less prosaic. I’m surprised that  _ you _ , who is the romantic one between the two of us, did not think of that word,’ he mused. ‘You know that it would be an honour to add your name to mine,’ he added shyly, his voice soft and careful. After all, although both he and John had drunk moderately, they were in Gregory’s words “a couple of lightweights”. How much would John remember?  _ He _ probably would, he had trained his brain to retain information even if it did not always present him with enviable, thrilling memories.   
  
John giggled. “Mmmm well I’m not all with it. Do like that. United. Much better. You’re much better with words than me. Once we get married we’ll be about as united as we can get. We’ll set it up soon. Just a few people. You, me, Rosie, Mrs Hudson, Greg, Mycroft, Molly, your parents, Harry an’ Clara. That’s it. Small. Jus’ family. Gonna finally make an honest man outta the great Sherlock Holmes,” he snorted another giggle, much softer as he came closer to sleep. **  
** **  
  
**

** _***_ **

Given the drinks he’d had the night before and the intense union he and Sherlock had experienced, John was in excellent spirits. A good night’s sleep and a cup of very strong tea had all but eliminated the minor hangover he had.    
He had decided to let Sherlock sleep in some and had had breakfast with Rosie who was happy to stay and play with her cousins rather than do boring adult things. Taking a mug of tea and a bit of breakfast back up to the room he was sharing with Sherlock, he nudged him awake.    
“I let you sleep in. And brought breakfast. We leave in about an hour.”

Sherlock kept his eyes shut, pressed together to try to keep the intrusion at bay. Even though he recognised the sound of John’s voice, he grumbled and covered his face under the thick eiderdown.   
‘Mm, no. Don’t want to,’ he said, his words muffled. He had little intention to please John that morning, especially as he expected John to present him with something else than this revoltingly chirpy behaviour for so early in the morning.   
  
John smiled, sitting breakfast aside.    
“I know, but we have to. Besides, if you don’t get up then we’re going to miss out on getting Rosie her custom kilt, and getting you in one. I have to admit, the thought of your gorgeous long legs in a kilt is really something I’ve been looking forward to. I promise to behave myself through the fitting. Now behaving myself  _ after _ is an entirely different thing,” he chuckled kissing Sherlock’s bare shoulder peeking above the thick blanket. “And we also have to get Rosie another stuffed animal. Maybe a cow. I think she’d like that.” Slipping his hand under the covers he ran his fingers along Sherlock’s spine slowly lightly tracing over the scars that were near invisible to the eye. 

‘Mh, don’t want to,’ Sherlock replied in a clearly audible sigh. ‘My head hurts,’ he complained. **  
**   
“Come on, sleepyhead. The sooner we get all this done, the sooner we can get home. I bet there’s been a decent uptick in the crime rate since you’ve been gone. And Greg’s been out of town too. Time to get home and make sure they know that just because you go on a bit of a holiday does not mean it’s a free-for-all.”  **  
** **  
  
**

‘Mh, fine. If we go back after my head’s better. ‘M out of sorts,’ he grumbled, reluctantly getting his head out of the safe cocoon the blanket provided. ‘Not hungry,’ he added as he saw the breakfast tray John had carried upstairs. ‘Although I will have tea,’ he conceded.   
**  
**John placed a gentle kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head handing him a couple of tablets to help with the headache. “I put extra honey in the tea and there’s a ridiculously thick layer of honey on the toast as well. Be a shame for it to go to waste when the bread is toasted a nice golden brown outside and still soft inside.” 

‘I  _ told _ you I wasn’t hungry,’ he reiterated, ‘I’m sure you can find someone else to eat that,’ he said, clearly detaching himself from the situation and John’s proof of affection.

  
Studying Sherlock for a moment as a doctor would study a patient and look for symptoms, he stroked the hair off his forehead. “No temperature. Not really anyway. Anything else bothering you? Besides the aching head? We’ll try and make this as short as possible so we can get home,” John promised gently stroking Sherlock’s wild tumble of curls. 

‘’M fine apart from my head,’ he grumbled, reluctantly sitting up and draping himself in the sheet so he’d get out of bed without catching too much of a cold, the only evidence of his temperature being goosebumps running on his forearms.    
He looked briefly at John who was trying to catch his eye, perplexity at this sudden and unexpected change in Sherlock’s mood etched on his face. Sherlock quickly turned his head away, reporting his attention on his cup of tea, tasting the sweet honey and wondering why he didn’t feel as happy and comfortable with John as he usually did while John clearly did, the cup of heavily sweetened honey being proof of it.    
He blamed it on the many people at the party the previous night and the emotions, constantly running high, to which he wasn’t used.

He decided to move on, ignoring his feelings of deep unease and preparing his clothes for the day. 

**  
** John put a couple of tablets of aspirin next to Sherlock’s tea and gently swept a hand over his curls again. “Make sure you bundle up. It’s a bit chilly out and the wind really comes howling down some of the narrow streets.” **  
**   
Sherlock nodded absently. His coat was warm enough for chilly days and the wind would not be a problem. ‘I’ll just close the buttons on my coat,’ he replied dismissively.   
  


“Don’t want you ending up sick when a crime wave happens.” 

‘I don’t get sick,’ he mumbled, his back turned to John as he took care of taking a shirt thicker than the ones he usually wore, heeding John’s advice if only somewhat. Presumably John’s idea of ‘bundling up’ was to wear a thick jumper as well as matching scarf and gloves. **  
** **  
** John smiled, licking a bit of honey off his thumb with a wink at Sherlock.    
“I brought the new jumper you got me for Christmas. Figured I’d wear it under the nice new jacket your parents got me along with the new scarf Rosie picked out when we went shopping.”    
It was a small concession. Sherlock seemed more off and broody than usual. Maybe the promise of wearing the new things Sherlock had helped choose would cheer him up a bit. 

‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ Sherlock commented absently.

  
“Rosie’s not too upset at being left behind,” he continued. “Told her we were doing boring grown-up stuff and she’d have much more fun with her cousins and helping with things around the house. She said to have fun and not to be gone too long.”   
  
_ What fun could be had there? He only wanted to get back to Baker Street and hide in his room, curled in on himself, snuggled in his blanket. Why he wanted (needed?) to retreat into himself was still a mystery to him, _ _   
_ _   
_ John chuckled, “she barely stopped long enough in explaining ‘the deduction game’ to her cousins to talk to me. She’s really taking after you.”    
  
‘Hm, if you say so, John. I do hope not to be gone too long and return home quickly,’ he added his tone forlorn.

*******

The formal vows exchanged, and more importantly, the signatures drawn on the papers, Harry and Clara were officially married - for the second time. 

The party of six had dressed for the occasion, but they had decided not to wear anything extravagant. Formal and smart, but the brides had decided not to go over-the-top: this was reserved for the real wedding, the one they already had on the previous day.   
Sherlock and Irene did not find any difficulty in dressing formally as that was precisely how they dressed every day of the year, as did Kate. However, the Watsons, though they understood why some people did - or at least why their significant other did, where John was concerned - and had the means to, did not see the appeal. Of course, they had a few formal clothing items, but they did not constitute the essential part of their wardrobe and, in that sense, it was difficult for them to dress formally with variety.   
  
As they departed the old, imposing building of Edinburgh city hall, happiness etched on everyone’s faces - save a forced smile and distant look on Sherlock’s - John took hold of Harry’s elbow. _   
_ _   
_ Glancing at Sherlock who appeared to be absorbed in his phone John pulled Harry aside.    
“You all go and have a nice day. I’m taking Sherlock to get his kilt and a mixed one for Rosie. We need to get her a little something from one of the shops. Probably a stuffed cow. She’s not too pleased at leaving Rudy behind.” He managed to smile a bitm his attention focused on Sherlock.    
  
Harry followed his glance. “You two all right?”   
John sighed. “Yeah. Sure. Yeah. Fine. I mean, I think so. I don’t know why we wouldn’t be. Last night was…” he trailed off unconsciously rubbing at one of the marks Sherlock had left on his neck that was mostly covered by the collar of his shirt. “Emotions you know. A lot for him to process. And all the people. New people.” Damn. He was rambling. And he knew he was rambling.    
  
Harry squeezed his arm. “I’m a bit shit at it all, but if you need to talk… You always did think better when you talked it through out loud.” Managing to smile John hugged her. “Thanks for the offer. I’m sure we’ll sort it all out. Don’t let me worrying over nothing spoil your day.”   


The couples went their separate ways: Harry, Clara, Irene and Kate walked to the car which was waiting for them while John decided to take Sherlock to the kilt shop near the docks he had mentioned the day before and again that morning.    
It didn’t matter that by the time they arrived there the shop was closed for luncheon and, even though it had taken them about an hour to walk up there, the city was incredibly beautiful, if indeed a chilly air accompanied them wherever they walked.   
Sherlock mapped the city in his head, all the while absentmindedly listening to John regaling him of anecdotes of the few times he had gone to Edinburgh, be it with his family or as a doctor for a conference. He entertained (or at any rate  _ tried to  _ entertain) Sherlock, who seemed determined to stay in a foul mood, with outlandish stories of the number of times he and Mac, along with a pack of other cousins, had caused trouble and nearly got thrown out of several pubs.   
“The food’s good around here. Fresh fish and chips, excellent Haggis. The inside at least. Not very fond of the actual casing. And there’s a nice pastry shop that has these amazing bite-size honey cakes. With a strong cup of tea with local honey in it, they’re a real treat. Why don’t we grab a bite of something while we wait?”   
  
  


‘Yes, by all means, let’s fill our bodies with food. It has been almost 5 hours since you ate, you  _ must _ be starving,’ Sherlock huffed. ‘Transport,’ he added, grumbling as he followed John to the nearest restaurant.   
  
While Sherlock had elected to stubbornly ignore John’s requests that he eat something and merely glanced at the glass of water that John had reluctantly ordered for him, John’s stomach needed some real, substantial sustenance and he ordered himself actual, proper food.   
  
Forcing himself to nibble at the fish and chips that he’d put entirely too much vinegar on, John tried to talk to Sherlock who was clearly not in any mood to eat or talk and he was beginning to worry that something was seriously wrong despite how perfect the night before, and the several days, and weeks, before that had been.   
  
“Wouldn’t hurt you to at least try and eat something. It’ll be late by the time we get back. I’m sure there will be plenty of food in the kitchen. Always is, but putting together anything but a sandwich might be asking a bit much at the end of a long day. At least have something to drink. Tea or water, something,” he prompted as gently as possible, trying to keep the edge of panic and worry out of his voice. Something was wrong and he had no clue what it was.   
  
Sherlock looked up from the table he was observing the scratches of to meet John’s somewhat hesitant gaze. ‘I’m fine and will continue being  _ fine _ when we return to your aunt’s,’ he replied curtly. 

  
John sighed. “All right, I’ll stop pushing. Or at least try.” Sherlock’s mood and lack of appetite were clear signals that something was wrong. Very wrong. With no case on there had to be something important John was missing. Going back through the last few days he failed to find anything that stood out that might have put Sherlock in such a foul mood.  
  
Leaving the remains of his mostly uneaten lunch on the table, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustrated at the mental block he had as to why Sherlock was so unhappy with, well, everything. He hated poking at what was essentially an ingrown toenail but there was something definitely off. Forcing himself to smile and act as if nothing was wrong he nodded before quickly standing up.   
“Well, the shop should be open by now. At least it isn’t a far walk.” Glancing at Sherlock a bit anxiously, John steered them toward the exit and then the kilt shop which was bound to be open by now. 

“This shouldn’t take too long,” he added. “Fitting isn’t as complicated as for one of your posh suits,” John tried to tease. “Just a great length of fabric wrapped around your waist a few times. It may take a bit to get the pleats to lay perfectly, but this won’t be too terrible. It’s the only fitting I’ve ever been able to tolerate. Fortunately, when I joined the army they just shoved a pile of clothes roughly your size at you and you made do,” he chuckled weakly, placing his hand on the door handle of the shop, turning to Sherlock and hoping against hope that his mood had become lighter in the distance it had taken them to walk to the shop.**_  
_****  
** Opening the door to his still brooding partner, John stepped inside and was greeted by the smell of wool and fabrics. Running his eyes over the brightly coloured and patterned fabrics he nodded to a bolt on the cutting table.   
“That’s the Holmes tartan. It will look splendid with your eyes.” He glanced up at Sherlock, hoping the compliment would unthaw him a fraction. The longer Sherlock’s mood continued, the more uneasy and irritable John felt.He kept having to remind himself not to snap and not to be overly worried.   
  
While Sherlock had suggested in jest he get a kilt as well, John did seem intent on making it a reality. Sherlock decided to indulge him: if, what now seemed ages ago, he had thought John irresistible in a kilt more than he usually did, the balance of probability that John would have the same reaction to him wearing a kilt heavily indicated so. Besides, he knew that he was in a rather ghastly disposition and John was starting to be affected by it; conceding to doing something he would appreciate might help John’s mood if not his own.  
_  
_‘Mh. You were afraid they wouldn’t have any, for some reason. There seems to be enough for Rosie’s...’ he trailed off, suddenly realising the reason why he was not in the high spirits John had been in the morning. Upon comprehending, he saw very little reason to brighten up as matters seemed indeed gloomy. ‘You wanted her to have both our family tartans, even though I’m not Scottish,’ he added. 

John smiled a bit looking slightly sheepish. “Well I might have placed a call a few days ago to make sure it’d be in stock and gave a rough estimate on your measurements, as well as Rosie’s. I wanted to make sure they’d have it.”  **  
** **  
** Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘Of course you have.’

“And you might not be Scottish, but there is a Holmes clan and you’re probably related to them somehow. Besides, Harry had a point: the two patterns are very similar and made up of the same colours. It’ll be perfect for Rosie. Merge the two patterns, even if it isn’t with a wedding. She has both our names, she should have both patterns on her kilt.”    
He glanced up at Sherlock still concerned over how distant and moody he’d been. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested getting married the night before, or just now. Maybe that was something, another step, Sherlock didn’t want to take. Maybe he was perfectly happy with things as they were. Not that John could blame him.    
**  
** Sherlock hummed evasively, curious to understand why he’d taken so strongly to John’s forgetting the question he’d put to him the previous night.    
Sherlock was in a very good place, albeit still disbelieving that after all those years and all those hardships, fortune finally had smiled on him. Taking the next step with John would have put his doubts and fears to rest. He had a suspicion that John would have felt their love consolidated and stronger, erasing the dreadful experience that was his previous marriage.   
Why hadn’t he mentioned his proposal again and why was he taunting him with references to a wedding between them both? He had laid himself bare, let himself be vulnerable and  _ accepted _ John. Why was he being cruel to him?

_   
_ _   
  
_

The shop owner greeted them warmly. Adelaide was very well-known in the shops and frequently spent large sums of money in them and was always more than willing to help out if they were in a financial jam. It wouldn’t do for word to get back to her that one of her family hadn’t been treated well. 

John chatted with him a bit, trying to include Sherlock and growing increasingly confused and frustrated by his cool demeanor and seeming disinterest in making sure that the kilt would fit him and look perfect on Rosie.  
  
Maybe this had all been a terrible idea, bringing Sherlock here and getting him this _involved_ in things. Maybe it was all too much. Maybe he was beginning to have second thoughts, and rightfully so, added John's mind unhelpfully, about getting married and even maybe, unthinkably, co-parenting Rosie. The thought put him on edge, straining at his already fraying temper.  
  
Contrary to what John had told him, the fitting took the best part of the afternoon, and matters were not helped by John’s and the tailor’s affability and constant need to chit-chat, which meant that Sherlock was in an even more dire mood than he had been so far that day . **  
****  
**

John had informed the tailor (Anderson, of all surnames…!) of Rosie’s identity and ensued another bout of discussion about love and family, quickly followed by a digression about whether or not Rosie’s mother approved of her daughter’s living conditions without a motherly figure.

John bristled at the implication. “She’s doing just fine. She spends a great deal of time with our landlady, who’s like a grandmother to her. Not to mention my sister and her wife, and Sherlock’s mother. Rosie’s got no lack of strong female role models. Motherhood did not agree with my late wife and Rosie’s better off with two parents of the same gender who love her endlessly than with one who adores her and one who despises her existence.”

‘I’ve angered you,’ Anderson declared. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that we don’t get many same-sex couples around here and I personally never served any. I was only… curious. I didn’t mean to offend,’ he repeated, the professional in him trying to ensure he kept these customers while he very much wanted to know more.    
‘You clearly are taking fantastic care of your daughter,’ he praised them in the hopes of appeasing the shorter of the two, who clearly seemed the one with the shorter fuse.

‘Obviously,’ Sherlock butted in, haughty as if he were not wearing a jacket with needles to mark where the fabric should be altered to suit his figure. ‘Do you really think parents automatically become idiots when in a same-sex relationship? If so, you clearly have no idea of how utterly stupid heterosexual couples can be. Sexual orientation doesn’t change anything to a person, and certainly not how moronic they are,’ he added vitriol colouring his words.

‘I meant no disrespect,’ Anderson reiterated, busying himself with a pin cushion and his tape measurer. 

‘Hm.’ Sherlock had reverted to his terse, monosyllabic people-are-idiots way of not communicating.  
_  
_After more profuse apologies from the shop owner, after much grumbling from Sherlock not to mention his utter lack of interest in the proceedings, much to John’s growing unquiet and overwrought state, Anderson put the final alteration to the cloth.  
Sherlock gathered his belongings while the tailor took the newly made kilts and other traditional clothing to delicately wrap in paper behind the counter.  
It was most unusual to have someone of non-Scottish descent do a fitting for traditional Scottish attire and to be in such a closed-off, gloomy state when they were obviously contemplating a wedding to cement their partnership - merging clan tartans was almost exclusively done for that very specific occasion, after all.   
He wanted to know what was troubling them and if he could be of any help at all: if he could help out John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, especially after the time they had spent in his shop had started so heavily on the wrong foot…  
The look Sherlock Holmes was wearing was so cold and distant and John Watson looked so on edge and frustrated that all speck of impulse to propose aiding them extinguished, suffocated by the relatively tense atmosphere between the two men.  
He decided that, even though he could not dare offer them help lest he’d be at best ignored or dismissed, he would still show them what an honour it had been to serve them in his shop and to apologise once again for the terrible start of the afternoon.   
He wrapped the clothes and added a little card to the bundle to wish them all the best for their common life and upcoming wedding, and refused they pay for all the articles as it was his pleasure to offer the little one’s kilt.  
Slightly taken aback, the men nodded their thanks and left the shop with bags full of traditional Scottish patterned clothes.  
  
John glanced up at Sherlock trying to keep his own mood even and not get more on edge with Sherlock’s continued foul mood.   
“How about we grab a bite to eat? Just a quick something. Maybe something sweet? I’m sure we could both do with a snack. You didn’t eat much this morning and nothing for lunch. Getting Rosie’s present won’t take us long. There are plenty of shops nearby that will have just what we’re looking for. And we could pick up some of the local honey you’re so fond of.”   
He shifted the bag in his hand slightly trying to ignore the fact that the tremor in his hand had returned and his leg was beginning to ache with a dull bone-deep pain. It was just the damp weather and all the walking around they were doing. Nothing more. Nothing to be concerned about. Things were fine. He was fine. Sherlock was fine. They were fine. Sherlock had probably just exhausted his social meter with everything that had gone on the last few days.  
“It’ll be good to get home. Hopefully things will give us just a couple of days to settle back in and get back to normal.”

‘Don’t be ridiculous, John,’ Sherlock bit, ‘I’m not hungry and quite honestly all this over-energetic food is disgusting to me. Entrails…’ he shuddered. ‘Giving all that you’ve had me watch you eat for lunch, I dare hope you’re not planning to ingest any of these anytime soon… As it’s time for tea, I must decline your no-doubt coming lecture on stuffing myself with what you call delicacies but is to me mere revolting, over-buttery  _ stodge _ ,’ he spat, completely turning down John’s suggestion for a chance to eat. He had much more pressing things on his mind to pay attention to his transport and satisfy its needs to be fed. ‘We’re near the docks, what other shops could there be here beside the ones for outdoor experience we’ve walked past coming here?’ he continued, his tone blasé and bored. ‘Your sense of proximity is quite off in this regard,’ he added. _ As is mine in others _ , he reflected bitterly.    
‘Hm, home, yes,’ he repeated absently. He had just started to open up and give home another, deeper meaning now that John and he were a family - inasmuch as both of them were Rosie’s parents, since John had no intention of cementing it despite his proposal the night before. He was now contemplating turning back to the less meaningful sense that home had had so far and was resenting it.  _ Back to normal, indeed _ , he muttered.   
  
John flinched at Sherlock’s harsh tone, his hand clenching at his side as he stumbled slightly on an uneven spot in the pavement, hissing as a jolt of pain shot all the way down his leg.    
“Just looking after you. Part of what I do. Always has been. Fine. No tea. We’ll just check a few shops and find something for Rosie.” He held back questioning Sherlock if he was all right, if things were all right, if they were all right. When Sherlock was in one of these moods, asking questions did nothing to improve the situation. “What do you think she’d like? A stuffed cow like Rudy? Or maybe a sheep. You two named it, what was it, Susan?” Forcing a bit of a smile he looked over at Sherlock ignoring the twitch of his hand and the throbbing pain that shot down his leg like cold fire every few steps. **  
**

'Dolly,' Sherlock replied. 'Obviously,' he added. 'Fitting, considering. Dolly the sheep,' he clarified. John was preoccupied and not paying enough attention. He had brought Sherlock's sour mood on himself, it would be only just that he too, deals with the consequences of the choice he'd made. He had started imagining the three of them as a proper family, only for John to discard the idea he'd firmly put in Sherlock's head by  _ proposing _ . What did that make of them? The same type of family as they were, a man helping his… Friend? in raising his daughter? He was lost. That was a type of adventure he did not like in the slightest. 

“Dolly.” John nodded. “Right, right, of course. Makes complete sense. I’m sure Rosie will appreciate the joke when she’s older. So a cow or a sheep or both?” He glanced up at Sherlock. Sherlock’s cool indifference was beginning to worry him more and more, as well as grate on his nerves no matter how many times he told himself it was nothing and to have patience. “She’ll be thrilled with whatever you pick for her. It thrilled her so much last night when you agreed to play. I don’t think I thanked you, or thanked you enough for that. You really were amazing. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you play better.” Maybe that would help. Sherlock usually preened like a peacock whenever his musical talent was praised. “I think it was the highlight of the evening for everyone.”

'For everyone. I see,' he commented gloomily. 'We'll get her a cow  _ and  _ a sheep,' he continued, unable to keep the dejection completely out of his voice. 'I don't know when you'll take her to Scotland again, but I know that she'll miss Rudy tremendously in the meantime. I've already told her the story of how Dolly came to exist. Science… Should not be forgotten,' he concluded, the tone of his voice thick with the weight of the terror he dared not speak.    
  
“Of course you have,” John chuckled softly. “And I’m sure she’s fascinated by it. She’s quite the little scientist.” Hunching his shoulders a bit he sighed. Well then, there was at least part of this. Sherlock had hated this entire trip and clearly Scotland was disagreeing with him. Maybe he should have just let him stay in London. This was probably too much festiveness and too many new people in too short a time. He’d probably exhausted his reserve of social politeness. When they return home he’d try to give Sherlock some time alone to recharge himself. Stopping in front of a quaint toy shop he glanced at Sherlock. “What do you think? Seems like they’d have what we’re looking for here.” At least he hoped so. The sooner they got back to the house and to Rosie, the sooner they could get home.

'Yes, let's see what they have,' Sherlock replied tiredly. John had not contradicted him - Sherlock would not be with Rosie and him next time they went up to Scotland. With this last admission, it had become crystal clear to Sherlock that their relationship was too much for John to handle. John was likely regretting introducing him to his family, especially as he would not meet them in the same capacity he had had just the day before but only as… What? Consulting detective? Someone that John… Used to know?

He closed the sides of his coat tighter around him and turned his coat collar up before walking, fast, towards the entrance of the shop John had designated. It was for the better to have this done quickly so he'd return home before long.    
  
Reaching to catch Sherlock’s arm, but thinking better of it, John let his hand drop to his side ignoring the ache as it clenched tightly. That tone. He knew that tone. The tone that meant that Sherlock was done with things. How the hell was he supposed to do this?! What did it mean? Was Sherlock done with him? Done with Rosie? How was he, or Rosie, supposed to go back to square one, square zero?! Right. Best to just soldier on then. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head, jaw clenched hard enough to hear his teeth grinding, he followed Sherlock into the shop. Picking up a stuffed sheep he blinked back the tears stinking the backs of his eyes and swallowed past the tight lump in his throat. Rosie would love it. He’d let Sherlock give her both stuffies. They might be the last presents she got from her Papa.

_ *** _

_   
_ Silent and gloomy was the ride in the train back as it took them late to Aldourie. Sherlock ordered a taxi to get to the estate, eager to go to sleep - or at least to lie down. He doubted he could actually fall asleep after the heavy, tense ride back they had. 

He had spent most of the five hours of the return trip in his Mind Palace, gathering the memories he had of his family, the family he had had with John for a too short, too brief, too fleeting time; he'd tried to take measures to control the emotions that he knew he could not handle again, the pain, the heartbreak, the loss…

All the while John had been sitting in front of him, looking at the wall behind him, not saying a word either, staring into space - presumably looking for the words to end their relationship with the least damage possible. John was honourable in this way. 

As they entered the mansion, they went in the living room to greet the few people still up, and found Rosie telling a story to Adelaide, Lara, her aunts, Kate and Irene about them finding the magic glowing fairy bunny and her wish to have one as a companion for Sultan. 

She fell silent as they entered, neither of them any good at dissimulating the distress they both felt.

Sherlock smiled weakly, declared he was feeling under the weather, apologised as he dropped the two plushies next to Rosie and all but bolted towards the stairs, fleeing to the bedroom. Any bedroom.  ** _  
_ ** ** _  
_ ** Rosie’s bright smile faltered as her lip wobbled. “Papa?”    
John hugged her close. “Shhh… It’s ok sweetheart. Papa’s just very tired. He’ll be ok. We’ll be ok…” He wasn’t very good at lying, especially not to Rosie.    
Clara gave a slight nod to Harry going to scoop Rosie up. “Now then darling, why don’t we have a glass of warm milk while you tell us more about the wonderful glowing bunny!” She tickled Rosie a bit in an attempt to distract her. Harry squeezed John’s shoulder in support following Clara and Rosie. **  
** **  
** Kate watched with a frown looking between John, Sherlock, and a stricken Rosie. “Whatever has happened?” she murmured to Irene concerned about the state of things.

**  
** 'Nothing good, that much is evident. Men…!' she exclaimed under her breath. 'I'll investigate,' she promised, giving a soft kiss to the back of Kate's hand before standing up and going to Sherlock, an air of authority about her. 

'Sherlock, darling. Surely you don't think you can escape from me,' she said as she came nearer to him. 'I want to know everything,' she told him as she put her hand on his arm. 

Sherlock considered her soft yet firm voice and the fact that she had merely  _ placed _ her hand on his arm and not  _ take _ n it as if forcing him to obey. He nodded slowly, imperceptibly. 

'Not here,' he said, turning to take the stairs. Irene sighed, but followed. 

She knew that if John were in another state of mind, he'd be jealous and furious regardless of them having buried the hatchet. She found herself wishing John was in his normal state: clearly whatever had happened - or  _ not _ happened, as was most likely the case with these two, she mused - had affected Sherlock who had, drama queen that he is, reacted out of proportion. And so, in turn, had John. 

She sighed again as Sherlock opened the door to a room that had clearly not been used at least a few weeks before the wedding. 

'Who would have thought you would find a strange, dusty room more reassuring than the one you share with John?' Sherlock kept silent: he knew Irene would come to the correct conclusion with very little help.    
'Lover's quarrel, then,' she said. 'Except that both of you look absolutely devastated and distraught. If it were a mere quarrel, one of you would at least look angry. You once told me that love was incredibly destructive,' she reminded him. 'That's what I saw on your faces. It  _ has _ to do with love, or should I say the lack of it _ ,  _ if I take the overwrought, shattered air about both of you into account.'

Sherlock turned his head to the side, closing his eyes and exhaling softly. She was good. Not long now before she figured it out. 

'Sherlock,' she called softly, almost tenderly. 'There  _ cannot  _ be a lack of love here. From either of you. You have been pining for each other for years. Your relationship has gone to the lowest point possible  _ before _ you were actually romantically involved. Only last night you were disgustingly smitten and about to  _ bone _ each other raw. Sherlock,' she repeated after a pause. 'Do you remember what else you told me that day?' 

'I told you several things, you will have to be more specific.' 

Irene rolled her eyes. Sherlock was still the same snarky man she'd met years before. Giving him undeniable facts seemed to have calmed him down somewhat. 

'You told me that I should not let my heart rule my head.'

'Yes. How, tell me, is this relevant to the situation at hand?'

'Sherlock, darling. Think,' she told him, crossing her arms while the man sitting in front of her on a large armchair blinked and breathed in. 

'And now  _ stop  _ thinking. You've done far too much of that for today. Correct me if I'm wrong, but nothing  _ actually  _ happened between the two of you today, did it?' 

'No,' Sherlock admitted. 

'I'll tell you what I think happened, and I want you to consider it before dismissing it because you didn't think of it,' she started firmly. As Sherlock nodded his assent, she continued. 'Last night, the two of you were even more joined at the hip than at any other time. By your own admission, nothing happened today that could cause such dissention between you two. Your emotions have been running high and wild, and I think that you let them get the better of you, after something or other did not happen, wreaking havoc to your psyche as well as John's. The two of you being who you are - not adept at communicating, I mean,' she clarified, 'you imagined terrible scenarii instead of  _ talking _ with each other.' 

'That…' Sherlock started. 'That is worth considering,' he admitted. 

'Good. Then consider it and stop overthinking, darling. My advice would be to talk to John about whatever is on your mind, but…' she shrugged and took his face in her hands. 

'I hope you feel better and that a good night's sleep in your man's arms will crush these pesky adversaries you're fighting against. If anyone can fix whatever quagmire you find yourselves in, it's you two,' she concluded placing a kiss on his cheek. 

'Thank you,' Sherlock replied after a moment, his voice frail. 

'Of course. I can't have my favourite detective defeated by feelings and rendered unable to think, now, can I?' she replied cheekily.

'Quite. Well. If you'll excuse me, this day has utterly exhausted me,' he said as he stood up, his entire body trembling, unsteady. 'I believe it would do me good to lie down,' he said as he made his way to the door and wobbled towards the room he shared with John. 

Lara set a cup of tea next to John and sat next to him.    
“John, clearly something’s wrong. Is there anything we can do to help? Anything at all?” 

John sighed pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off a headache. “Hell if I bloody well know which way is even up right now. He’s been in a mood all day. Last night was spectacular and today… It’s like someone switched him off…” 

Nodding in sympathy she patted his hand gently, coaxing it to stop clenching. “Run through everything and see if there’s something you’re missing.”   
  
John sighed trying to remember every detail. “It was a perfect day. We had breakfast and took Rosie for a walk and saw Rudy. And Dolly, the sheep she’s decided was hers. Came back, changed, the wedding was wonderful. Rosie and Sultan stole the show a bit.” He managed a faint smile. “I hope they didn’t steal the spotlight too much from Harry and Clara…” Rubbing the back of his neck he shook his head. “The reception was excellent. We managed to convince Sherlock to eat a bit. He was incredible,working with the other musicians. We had a bit of celebrating, both had a couple of drinks. Rosie and Sultan stayed the night with Mac. Went to bed feeling great and curled up together like we usually do. Got up this morning and Sherlock was in a mood. I don’t know…” his voice caught. “Maybe after all this he’s decided that a more settled, domestic life isn’t for him. I know he and Rosie are over the moon for each other, but parenting’s bloody hard. Even on the best of days… So much emotion and feeling to process and deal with…” he shook his head trying desperately to remain calm.   
  
“That’s excellent, John. Really,” she murmured soothingly. “I’m sure there’s a little bit of something you can’t quite place. It will come to you. This is not the end of things, John. I seriously doubt that Sherlock is ready to let you and Rosie go. Or that you two are ready to let go of him. We’ve all seen how much those two adore each other. Not to mention you and Sherlock. I think that maybe if you two can stop thinking of the worst possible outcome and talk about things, you’ll both see that you want the same thing. To continue living your life together raising sweet Rosie. I’m sure it will all work itself out if you can both get past the block you’ve run into. We’ll see to put Rosie to bed. Ada and I are night owls. You take care of things.”    
  
John swallowed hard, steeling himself for the confrontation. “Thank you. I don’t know how I’d do this without all of you.”    
  
Adelaide smiled. “John, darling, that is what family is for. Now you go and see about sorting everything out. We will handle the rest.”    
Managing a smile, John kissed her cheek gently.    
  
Sherlock had been right in thinking he would not be able to fall asleep after the events of the day, or as Irene had suggested, the absence of events. He’d discarded his scarf and coat, taken his jacket and shirt off along with his suit trousers and put something more suited to nighttime. He rarely did wear pyjamas when at Baker Street, but they were an item he had certainly packed upon coming here. Unsure about going to bed with only this on his back, he had opened the wardrobe in their room in search of a thick dressing gown - thicker than the thickest one he had at Baker Street. They were in Scotland, after all. More specifically, the Highlands. If there was one place in the United Kingdom where people wanted to ward off cold, it was there. True enough, he found one that he quickly put on before settling into bed, curled in on himself, surrounded by the quickly warming up dressing gown and reassuring weight of the eiderdown.   
Irene had managed to bring his racing thoughts of a disaster scenario to slow down, but not to stop them entirely. He was still heavily agitated and could not help but contemplate  _ other _ topics he had not yet considered regarding John’s reaction. John would want to talk about everything, and the fact that he’d stayed behind with his family was another indication of that.   
Even if John had no intention of leaving him prior to that day and he had indeed made a mountain out of a molehill, he could not help but anticipate the explosion of rage John would direct at him as soon as they started talking, and the inevitable time apart that would come from it, resulting in the termination of their relationship.   
Though his brain kept running with it, that thought froze him in place, preventing him from tossing and turning.   
When the hinges of their door creaked and a streak of light came in from the corridor after what seemed like hours, Sherlock steeled himself for the conversation John likely wanted to have. He breathed out, and closed his eyes. **  
** **  
** Pausing before crossing the threshold, John surveyed the room to find his detective seemingly fast asleep. Of course he would be. John walked into the room, his gait heavy but his movements as quiet as he could make them so as not to disturb Sherlock. He changed his clothes as quietly as possible and slipped into bed to find Sherlock not only hogging the covers, but also wearing a dressing gown over his pyjamas. This was a clear sign of distanciation from a partner if ever he saw one. Hand hovering over Sherlock’s arm he sighed.    
“Good night, Sherlock…”

Sherlock slowly let out a breath, and waited for sleep to take him, daunted by the prospect of facing John in the morning when he knew he would be far from rested, or during the train back to London and Baker Street where they would have a possibly violent row and John would shout, waking up Rosie who would cry, bawling all her might while John would pack both their bags, furiously tossing the essentials or carefully placing them down in a travelling bag, distancing himself from the situation he had created while Sherlock would be left witnessing, stunned, his life ending, the warmth of the home they had created together evaporating in front of his eyes.

  
  
***

**  
** John was up early packing their things and trying to keep Rosie occupied while letting Sherlock sleep. He hadn’t slept much but mostly just spent the night staring at the wall and dozing lightly. He’d got up a few times to check on Rosie who was sleeping peacefully cuddled up with Sultan and her growing army of stuffed animals.   
He knew Rosie felt something was off. She was more needy and clingy than usual, making it difficult to get things done. He sighed trying very hard not to lose his patience with her.   
“Rosie, I’m trying to get us packed so we can get home. Why don’t you watch a show or play a game or have a story read to you with my phone. I know you can do it.”   
Picking her up he settled her in a comfortable, overstuffed chair with his phone before putting Sultan next to her. “I’ll be right in the other room packing.”   
  
Almost immediately climbing out of the chair she trailed after him holding on to the soft wool blanket that had been on her bed and Auntie had said she could keep.   
“Where Papa? Why Papa sleepins?”   
  
John sighed. “He’s tired, Rosie. We’ve been busy. People get tired.”   
  
Pouting she shook her head unpacking a bag John had just packed. “Want stories. Belle stories.”   
  
John sighed and picked her up while she gave a protesting squeal. “I will get your Belle book out if you promise me you and Sultan will sit down and stay there.”  
  
Sitting her back in the chair with a bit more force than necessary he kissed the top of her head.   
“Read your stories. Please stay in the chair.”   
  
Beginning to get down again she shook her head. “I help.”   
  
Putting her back he sighed. “No. You and Sultan help by staying put.”   
  
Huffing, she crossed her arms glaring at him. “No. We help. Stay put’s boring!”   
  
John sighed. “Rosamund Catherine Watson Holmes you are to stay put in that chair until I say you can get out again.”   
  
She shook her head. “I not in times outs! I no stay! Daddy mean!!” Hopping off the chair she took her blanket and book storming through the door to the small room that had been hers while they were visiting. “Daddy mean!! I hate you!” Slamming the door she kicked it for good measure before beginning to cry.   
  
John rubbed a hand over his face. “And we’re off to a great start to the day...” he sighed going over to crack the door open just enough so he could hear Rosie complaining about how mean he was to Sultan and her stuffed animals. “Father of the year award goes to me...”

Woken up by John’s shouting and Rosie’s crying, Sherlock opened his bleary eyes, having slept very little himself.   
His first instinct was to ask John how he had slept and kiss him hello but then he remembered  _ why _ he’d slept so poorly. He couldn’t very well wake up and act as if the day before had not happened and they were still disgustingly smitten, as Irene had told him. He refrained his very first instinct, and turned around to look at John’s back, clearly fraught with tension.   
‘Has a war started? I heard shouting and crying,’ he said in a semi-sleepy voice.   
**  
** John sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry we woke you up. I was trying to pack, Rosie’s trying to help. Her way of helping is to unpack half the things I’ve already packed instead of just watching a show or listening to a story on my phone. I’m the worst father in the world, she hates me, and she’s crying... It’s a hell of a day...”    
He shook his head. “I wasn’t even that harsh with her. Maybe you can get her sorted out. I’ll keep packing.”    
Sighing he hissed as pain shot down his leg causing him to stumble a bit as he tried to go around the room picking things up and trying to organize things. Absently rubbing his leg with his free hand he limped across the room shoving a pile of assorted clothing into a large travel bag.

_   
_ Sherlock grunted as he sat up, blinking away the traces of sleep in his eyes, and tightened the belt of the dressing gown more firmly around himself. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, unwilling to engage John any more than was strictly necessary. The fear he had had, the fear that had kept him awake for the largest part of the night was still at the forefront of his mind; he was still afraid any conversation they’d have would evolve into a row of epic proportions with only one dreadful, terrifying result, the termination of their relationship. He had noticed that John was extremely agitated and in pain, his psychosomatic pains returning as they did when under duress. Seeing no casual way to make them disappear again, he walked to Rosie’s room, knocking gently on the door and letting himself in as the toddler kept on crying.   
  
  


‘Hello, little madam, what seems to be ailing you? What’s wrong?’ he asked more directly so Rosie knew that Sherlock was being serious. ‘You should be playing with your cousins instead of waking me and hiding in your room,’ he admonished her. ‘Now,’ he carried on, crouching in front of her, ‘let’s say hello like a civilised person, and go downstairs while John and I prepare our luggage. We wouldn’t want to miss the train back home, now, would we?’   
  
Clinging to her blanket and trying to hold all her stuffed animals in her arms and pet Sultan at the same time she shook her head. “No. Daddy mean. I help. Daddy bein’ mean. You sleepins. Boring!! Cousins boring an’ stupid. I help! But not Daddy. Hate Daddy. All boring!!” she huffed and stomped her foot.    
  
John poked his head around the door. “Rosamund Catherine, we do NOT talk like that to people. We don’t hate people or call them boring or call them stupid.”    
  
Stomping over to the door she tried to shut it on him. “GO ‘WAY!!!!! You mean!!!!!”    
  
Getting hit in the face with the door, John grumbled several muffled curses before his stomping about resumed, limp more pronounced.   
  
Flopping down on her bed dramatically Rosie sobbed about the unfairness of life.

Sherlock sighed heavily, rolled his eyes in exasperation and frowned severely. ‘Don’t, Watson,’ he enunciated clearly, detaching every syllable, his voice low and even. ‘Don’t call John mean. Do  _ not  _ say that you hate him. Your father is right, we do not hate people or call them names. I’m not interested in knowing  _ why _ you say these mean things yourself,’ he continued before she argued. He took hold of her shoulders before continuing. ‘You will do as you are told. Apologise. To both of us,’ he clarified. ‘You know very well what to say sorry for,’ he added. ‘I strongly suggest you obey and cease the theatrics,’ he finished looking her in the eye.   
**  
** Lip wobbling and face scrunched, Rosie burst into tears again crawling in his lap and clinging to him while babbling mostly incoherent strings of words and rambling about everything from Hedgie and Otter not getting along to Sultan refusing to give kisses to not being able to find her favorite Belle story in the book. Holding on tightly to the edges of his dressing gown, she buried her face into the crook of his neck and kept sobbing heavily.   
  
Opening the door cautiously and now sporting the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek from being hit with the door John sighed. “See if she has a temp. If she’s getting sick again. Might    
explain all this.” He gestured vaguely to Rosie who was ignoring his presence. “She’s been off since last night. I’ll ask Mac how she was yesterday and bring something to eat up. We’re mostly packed.”

Sherlock briefly turned his head to see the blemishes of a bruise forming onto John’s cheek.

‘John. Stay here a moment,’ he asked softly. ‘Watson,’ he placed the knuckle of his index finger under Rosie’s chin and forced her to raise her head. ‘Look at me,’ he entreated, his voice softer but still firm. ‘You are sad, tired, frustrated and possibly sick, I understand that. Watson, is this a reason  _ not  _ to apologise to what you’ve said and done to your father? Apologise,’ he repeated. ‘Neither of us is  _ angry _ at you, Rosie,’ he encouraged. **  
**   
John moved closer, stroking her hair. “No, sweetheart, we’re not cross with you. I was trying to pack and you were trying to help. Sometimes the best thing you can do to help is to do what I ask you to do. Why don’t you stay with Papa for a bit. I’ll run downstairs and get something to eat. I know you’re probably hungry. You and Papa can have a nice morning cuddle and maybe read a story. I think that might help.” He tried to smile hoping this wasn’t the last story Sherlock would be reading to Rosie. “Is that ok?” Looking at Sherlock, he hesitated unsure how much he’d still want to do with Rosie. **  
**

Sherlock nodded and looked at Rosie who had calmed down somewhat but was still visibly upset. ‘Of course. Having me cuddle with you and read you a story will help calm you down, will it not? You know that neither your father nor I want you to be anxious, and I think you will get even calmer once you are back to Baker Street. That’s the reason why your Daddy is packing. There is no other reason,’ he declared, feeling her forehead as he said so. ‘She doesn’t have a fever, John. She is warm because she worked herself up, let her emotions control her, but she is fine,’ he assured him. ‘You still need to apologise, Rosie. There’s no excuse for your behaviour,’ he reminded her as he saw John hesitating on the threshold.   
  
Rosie sniffled a bit looking at the mark on John’s cheek. “Hurt Daddy.. I sowwy. Love Daddy. And Papa. Lots.” She snuggled into Sherlock keeping a firm grip on his dressing gown.    
John smiled at her. “I know darling, I know you do. I’m not angry. Papa will stay with you and you two can read some of your Belle stories. Everything’s ok. I love you. Papa loves you. It’s ok.”    
He gave Sherlock’s shoulder a light squeeze in thanks for helping Rosie calm down. “I won’t be too long. Just a bit of breakfast. I know we don’t want to miss the train.” **  
** **  
** Startled by the hand on his shoulder, Sherlock tensed, but did not protest. He started pulling away far more quickly than he usually did: the impulse of the moment was one thing but lying to Rosie was quite another, cruel to boot, and he wouldn’t have a part in this.  
  
‘Thank you, Rosie, that was well done. Now come on here and give us a cuddle,’ he said opening his dressing gown so the little girl could curl up against his chest.  John sighed flinching when Sherlock pulled away from his touch. “Yeah. Right then. I’ll get some breakfast for everyone.” Letting his hand fall to his side, clenching up almost immediately he shook his head. “Think I’m just having coffee. Tea for you, Sherlock. And a good breakfast for Rosie.”    
  
Rosie scrambled to huddle inside Sherlock’s dressing gown wrapping herself around him and tucking her head under his chin with a slight shiver. Now that she was beginning to calm down she was a bit cold. “Toast, Daddy. Wif honey. Pease. I shares wif Papa.” Looking up at Sherlock she sighed. “Papa read story now? Pease?”   
  
Trying to smile John nodded. “Toast with honey for you. I’ll do what I can.” Stepping outside the room he leaned against the wall taking a shaky breath and scrubbing a hand over his face before heading to the kitchens.

After John had closed the door of their room behind him - which was hardly the smartest thing to do since he’d come back with his hands full - Sherlock looked down to meet Rosie’s eyes, all expectation to listen to a story.    
‘Now Rosie, I will read you a story as you request. You should learn to say please properly. Imagine a bubble that explodes. You would say ‘plop’, am I correct? The first sound of this word is the same for ‘please’. Try it, while I select a story,’ he said while taking the book John had taken out. 

‘Well, that was quick,’ Sherlock commented to Rosie a short while later as John struggled with opening the door. ‘Let’s go and help him,’ he said as he walked to open the door and meet John who had a large tray on his hands.

Rosie scrambled to help open the door. “I help. Pease.” Scrunching her face she shook her head trying again like Papa had told her. “Please.” It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. She looked to Sherlock. “I saided it! Did I do better Papa?’  
  
‘Yes, Rosie, it is better. Remember that you can do it, so you don’t get it wrong,’ Sherlock said. ‘You’re doing well,’ he added.  
‘You shouldn’t have closed the door,’ Sherlock told John as a manner of greeting, frowning his nose in front of all the pieces of toast that were laid out on a plate, alongside a ramekin for honey and another for blackberry jam.   
‘That’s a lot of food,’ he said, looking at Rosie. ‘You’ll have a lot to eat, a solid breakfast to hold you well onto the day. Let’s not forget lunch. I will check the train times later, but if memory serves there’s one early in the afternoon. We’ll arrive in London well into the night.’ **  
****  
****‘**You eats toast too. We shares.”   
  
John stroked her curls. “You two share. I had a bite downstairs. And I’ve got coffee. I’m sure there’s packing to finish.”   
  
‘Ah, yes. I had forgotten about this arrangement. I suppose it can’t be helped,’ he sighed.  
  
John gave Sherlock a faint smile. “Thank you for helping her feel better.”**  
**  
‘Of course. She simply needed calming down,’ Sherlock replied, returning John’s smile with a similar one. She likely sensed that her father and I… I suppose this cannot be helped, either, and that it will last, he reflected.  
  
Sherlock patted Rosie’s head and took his mug of tea. ‘Thank you,’ he told John. ‘Rosie will need her strength,’ he said while giving her a piece of toast with honey on it and making one for himself. His stomach being in knots, he had no intention of eating it, but he hoped he could distract her by pretending to eat while all he was doing was actually drinking tea.  
  
John pulled Rosie into a hug. “You did very well sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. And I’m not mad. I promise. We’re all having a bit of a bad morning. But it’s ok. We’re family and I am never going to stop loving you.” He kissed her cheek. “Not too much for Sultan, ok. I brought up a bit of food for him too. But you could fill his bowl with some water so he had a good drink before we get ready and get on the train. And there will be lovely scenery to watch and plenty of movies and I’ll read to you. I’m sure if you asked Papa he’d read to you too. There will be several cars to explore too. Why don’t you and Papa finish breakfast while I pack.”   
  
Hurrying back to Sherlock she nibbled on a bit of toast. “Papa, help me gets water for Sultan? Please. Him’s firsty.”

‘Of course. When you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?’ replied Sherlock as he got up to fetch water for Sultan, putting his toast down. ‘I’ll need both my hands,’ he told Rosie before she made a fuss.    
‘I see you’ve brushed up on the technical terms, John,’ he remarked. ‘We’ll need to take a car before taking the train. It’s that or the bus and  _ other people _ …! I’d rather be trapped with you than complete strangers,’ Sherlock said **. ** **  
** **  
** John huffed a faint chuckle sitting their bags near the door and rubbing his shoulder. “I’m sure Auntie will be happy to loan us a car or that Mac would drive us. And thanks, I think. I’d rather be trapped with you than other complete strangers. Besides, I don’t know what the bus policy is on allowing dogs. I think we’re mostly packed. I left you out something to wear that would be comfortable for hours of travel. Rosie, if you had your toast you need to get dressed too. Your Belle leggings and one of your new Belle shirts that will go with it are out. And your light up shoes. Go get dressed,” he gently steered her off.    
Glancing at Sherlock he rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you manage a few bites? Don’t want you passing out later because your blood sugar drops too low.”    
Hard as it was, there was no way he could just let this all end so easily. Not when Sherlock still meant everything to him. And to Rosie.

Sherlock wanted nothing more than to give John a light massage for he clearly was in pain, but this would probably send mixed signals. Wouldn’t it? He dared not ask, much less try.    
He watched his daughter leave the room, toddling along with her clothes in her arms. She was calmer, but still uncertain about the state of things - there was something strange in the air about her fathers. John and he tried to make it… less evident and it worked to a limited extent.    
They had slept, albeit very poorly, thus making their acting skills passable instead of nonexistent.   
‘It would make more sense to have Mac drive us. Or anyone else,’ Sherlock said. ‘I have never passed out when I didn’t eat for a week, and my stay in Eastern Europe made sure my body knew how to adapt. Granted, it was some time ago, but it hasn’t forgotten,’ Sherlock replied, unaware of twisting the knife of guilt and remorse on John’s part. Or was he? He would still do his best to keep his relationship with John civil when Rosie was present, but it was a bit of a tall order to keep civil when he knew he was about to stew for hours before he had his heart handed to him, broken and shattered.

John sighed deeply, hand spasming as he looked out the window.    
“I’m sure Mac would be happy to drive us. We’ll make good time with the way he drives. I’m sure you’ll adapt and be fine but as your doctor - ” What else was he now? Friend? Colleague? Partner, but not romantic? “I’m still going to make sure that you don’t pass out.”    
Shaking his head, he shifted awkwardly. “Besides, it’ll take the two of us to keep Rosie occupied when she’s not napping. Movies and books only keep a toddler entertained for so long. Even when it’s you reading to her and doing the voices.” And he’d cherish every second. There was no way to tell which story might be the last before Sherlock went back to being who he used to be and didn’t have the time or interest to engage much with Rosie. **  
**

**‘** Oh yes, I know. Experts seem to agree on this; toddlers require near constant stimulation. Rosie is very demanding, even by the standards I’ve come across in literature on the subject,’ he agreed, a look of surprise, and regret in his eyes as John insisted he was his doctor. Nothing else, he noted. Even though that was to be expected, it still hurt to have it confirmed, especially after all the intimate moments they had shared over the previous days. How could their relationship have changed so dramatically over a single day? Why?   
‘Look at the toast, John. You can count the bites I’ve had amounting to the grand total of zero,’ he bit. ** _  
_ ** ** _  
_ ** John sighed deeply reminding himself to count to at least ten and not snap. “Sherlock, can you please at least try for a few bites? For Rosie’s sake? Please. Neither one of us will be helped by not feeling well because we didn’t eat. Yes, I know, pot, kettle, but I did manage a couple of bites aside from coffee.” Sighing, he shook his head doing everything he could to keep his temper in check.    
“I’ll go see if Mac’s driving us and get the bags downstairs. If you’d get Rosie sorted and down that’d be good.” He swallowed the last of the coffee in his cup making a face before picking up a couple of the lighter bags to carry downstairs with him.

They had made arrangements for Moira to drive them to Inverness shortly after lunch as Mac was still sleeping off the remnants of the alcohol and could do with silence - something Rosie, as any toddler, would find herself unable to provide.   
The two men were awkward around each other. They had not resolved the quarrel they had had the day before, and everyone had exchanged looks of dismay at their cool attitude towards each other.   
Lunch went very awkwardly, as did the drive to Inverness. Rosie babbled almost constantly, John either attempted to talk with Rosie or have a conversation with Moira while Sherlock merely looked at the scenery passing in front of him, of sheep and cows in the snow-covered fields, of water trickling down the sides of the road as snow slowly started to melt.   
John and he were not seated next to each other even though they technically could have but Sherlock had argued that Rosie’s safety was paramount, which had quieted John’s retort and settled the matter.    


The atmosphere in the car had been fraught with tension, and Moira was relieved to arrive at Inverness train station, even though the strain and heaviness between them worried her.    
  
Moira smiled hugging Rosie tightly. “I’ll see you VERY soon Rosie my darling. You will all have to come visit whenever London lets you. I’ll send lots of pictures of Rudy and Dolly to you so you can see how well they’re doing.” Hugging John she kissed his cheek. “Take care of them. Yourself too. And don’t be such a stranger. You’re family.”    
  
Smiling up at Sherlock she laid a hand on his arm. “And that goes for you as well, Sherlock. We’re all quite proud to have you in the family.”   
  
John slugged a bag on his shoulder with a wince keeping his hand on Rosie’s coat so she wouldn’t suddenly decide to take off. “Thank you, Moira. We will. Rosie and I will, I promise. Look after Mac and don’t let him get himself in trouble. Come on Rosie, we need to get aboard the train.”   
  
Moira held on to Sherlock’s arm for a moment. “I don’t know what’s gone sideways between you two, but I’ve known John for a long time and I have never seen him happier than he has been with you. Now, I’m not saying either of you is at fault. I do know that he hasn’t stopped loving you. Anyone can see that much. I know you’ll sort all this out. Please, take care of him for us.”   
  
Watching the three of them board the train she waved to them as the train pulled away from the platform, asking a small blessing for their happiness before getting back in the car to drive home.   
  
The three hour train ride from Inverness to Edinburgh was tense, quiet, and thankfully short. Rosie napped most of the ride and John did his best to doze despite the ache in his shoulder and dull throb in his leg.    
  
Once they changed trains bound for London he and Sherlock took turns keeping Rosie occupied with long walks, stories, and the occasional movie or educational show to keep her mind stimulated and busy. She clearly knew something was still not right, she was reluctant to leave either of them without a number of kisses, hugs, and promises they would still be there when she got back.

They alighted at King’s Cross station well into the night, past Rosie’s bedtime, both of them still exhausted and their nerves frayed.    
As the taxi taking them back to Baker Street arrived in front of their flat, Sherlock paid the driver while John managed with difficulty to leave the car with Rosie, who had fallen asleep, in his arms. He could only hope she would not wake before… well, before John and her left.   
He took the luggage out of the boot, leaving John to manage the door - he only had to press a button to call for Mrs Hudson, after all. She, too, saw that John was far from being in the best of shapes and could only assume the worst when she spotted the bruise on his cheek. He gave her a faint smile and whispered his thanks before walking up the twenty-four steps to his old room.  _ I’ll probably sleep there tonight _ , he thought as he put Rosie to bed.

As he passed Mrs Hudson who was still standing near the door, Sherlock raised his coat collar, remembering he was still wearing traces of John’s passion from two nights before and did not want to give her the idea that John had…   
Certain past events between John and him had crept up insidiously in his mind as their interactions had worsened throughout the day. He would not submit Rosie to this if he could help it, and he was still rather certain that John would not either.   
He lowered his head and walked up to their-soon-to-be-his-once-more flat and dropped the bags in the living room that held so many memories, both good and bad, that would soon become mere memories taking dust.  
  
Sherlock sat down in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin, attempting to work more on the secure box he had begun to create to save the memories he had of John. His family. He was about to close his eyes when he heard John’s footsteps in the living-room. Sherlock observed him closely: the muscles of his neck were tight, as was his windpipe and he favoured his right leg, as his left hand clenched and unclenched.   
  
Things were wrong. So very, very wrong. John couldn’t even begin to figure out where it had all gone so wrong or why. Everything had been perfect, and then, suddenly, it wasn’t. Not at all like with Mary. At least there he’d seen warning signs and red flags from the start but had chosen to ignore them, thinking in some way he deserved whatever happened for his failure to save and protect Sherlock. But this, this was completely different. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.    
“I, uh, thought I’d make some tea. Something herbal. Maybe help me sleep. I can make you some too…” John shifted awkwardly. “Rosie’s still out. Hopefully she’ll sleep well. I think she finally wore herself out enjoying the train and visiting with everyone on it.”    
  
_ Yes. Definitely something to say. Something difficult which he can’t bring himself to. _ _   
_ _   
_ Maybe if they both had some tea they could sort out what was going on. Tea solved a number of the world’s problems. It could help solve this too. At least he hoped so. All he desperately wanted was to talk to Sherlock. Talk like they had been lately. It had all been going so well and then the morning after the reception, everything had suddenly gone to hell.    
  
Turning to the kitchen he got out the mugs and filled the kettle with water, dropping the honey vanilla chamomile bags in the bottom of each mug. He was too tired to even think about making proper tea. It still took several minutes but it gave him time to think.  
_   
_ ‘We’re not having whatever conversation you need to have while we’re both tired. Why don’t you leave a note to say you’d rather have anyone but me?’ Sherlock spat before quickly getting to his feet and storming off in his room.   
  
  


The sound of the key turning in the lock was deafening in the silence of the flat.

  
  


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	13. Aftermath, part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A forewarning on this chapter, there are strong swear words and a very brief mention of suicide contemplation.  
If this triggers you and you want to read the chapter anyway, be reassured, it happens VERY early in the chapter (in the first... 28 lines.). Just ctrl+alt find this sentence   
'As John closed the door to what was still his flat', and you can read from there.

John blinked as Sherlock stormed off to their, no,  _ his _ , room. Well, that had gone over like a lead balloon. Apparently Sherlock was  _ not _ going to deal with this. How the hell was he supposed to manage all this? Rosie loved Sherlock and John knew the detective loved Rosie more than anything. How was this going to work?   
  
Sighing, he shut the kettle off. All of this called for something stronger than tea. He poured himself a generous splash of whiskey. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking when emotional, but...   
How could they do this to Rosie? She’d pick up that something was wrong. She already had. Taking a generous swallow he let his mind process things.   
  
“Shit...” he groaned, setting his cup down on the counter harder then he’d meant to. “Shit, shit, shit, fucking buggering hell, bugger, fucking shit, fuck!”    
It was so simple, so  _ obvious _ ! Staring him in the face! No wonder Sherlock had been in a strop. Of all the idiotic miscommunication they’d managed over the years, this one clearly took top prize. Fuck it all.    
  
He had to fix this. He had to fix this  _ now _ . Scrolling through the contacts in his phone he paced the small kitchen. True, it was pushing two in the morning, but when you needed to call in a favour there was no limit on what time of day it could be done.    
  
Making the arrangements briefly he grabbed Sultan’s lead. Stepping down the hall with the puppy at his heels he tapped on Sherlock’s door. “Sherlock, it’s me.”    
Stupid, stupid! Yes, of  _ course _ it was him! Who the hell else would it be at this hour?!    
“I’m taking Sultan for a walk. Hopefully tire him out so he’ll let us sleep in. I’ll be out a while. We’ll be back. I promise. You know I wouldn’t take Sultan from Rosie. Or you.” Sighing, he let his hand rest against the door. “I’m coming back, Sherlock. You have my word.” **   
** **   
** On the other side of the door, Sherlock huffed. His word. As if that amounted to anything when John could so easily circumvent it or  _ forget _ what he’d said, what he’d promised. He didn’t deign give John an answer. He had nothing to say to him. He only had bitter thoughts.   
Sherlock remembered. He had not yet found a way to delete this particular memory.   
Unless… What else was there for him? Once John had left Baker Street, taking everything he owned, Rosie, and Sherlock’s heart…   
Deleting the memory of John proposing to him and all those instances when he promised to always be there for him, to never leave him… He would have to wait a few days, he supposed, before he’ll leave everything behind, and probably go to Eastern Europe where his brother had had a job offer for him - one Mycroft had wanted him to decline. **   
  
**

As John closed the door to what was still his flat, Mycroft came to him, the pommel of his umbrella resting on his wrist.    
‘John,’ he greeted him. ‘A word?’ he requested in his tone that was not a question.   
  
Groaning, John rubbed his face. “Mycroft, now is  _ not _ the time. I’ve got a bloody important errand to run and I do  _ not _ have time, patience, or energy to stand around talking to you right now. Rosie’s upstairs. Asleep, I hope. Sherlock’s still in a mood, which is why Sultan and I have got an errand to run. He’s fine. Or he will be once I get home again. And the sooner I leave, the sooner I can get back, and the sooner he’ll be fine and all this will be sorted out. So, no, not a word, not a syllable, not a  _ letter _ . For once, can you  _ please  _ keep your nose out of Sherlock’s business? Things will be  _ fine _ . I am  _ not _ leaving. I am  _ not _ taking Rosie away. Do you see a bag? No. I’ve got the bloody  _ dog _ for Christ’s sake! Does it  _ look _ like I’m leaving? No. I’m not. So, if you’d move, we can all get on with our lives,” he frustratingly retorted, trying not to wince as he stepped around Mycroft. His shoulder and leg had been hurting more and more as time went on and he hadn’t bothered to take anything for the pain.

Mycroft looked at John with a mixture of approval and disappointment, which he knew made for a rather curious expression.  
‘I see that you have not dealt with those anger issues,’ he commented haughtily before remembering that he had promised to Gregory to be better and not to antagonise either Sherlock or John. ‘Gregory had told me from the woman who drove you to the train station earlier that there might be trouble between you and asked that I keep an eye on you two,’ he stated, his posture ever so slightly hunched. ‘I was merely doing as I was asked, you need not have shouted,’ he reproached sternly.   
‘Continue on with your special errand, John,’ he continued. ‘Attend to your ongoing conflict and _keep my brother happy_,’ he intimated before retreating in the dark, his figure lit by the halo of the street lamp.**  
****  
****  
**John sighed, catching up to Mycroft and falling into step beside him for a short distance. “I think you’ll forgive me for being a bit shouty when I’m trying my damnedest to not completely fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to me, which happens to be your brother. I’ve done enough harm, and the details of it you don’t need to know. If Sherlock decides to tell you later, fine. But as of right now, I have to go into the city and call in a favour from one of the high-end jewellers so that I can make this right and make it damn clear to Sherlock that I am _not_ leaving him and I am sure as hell _never_ taking Rosie from him. All I’m asking from you right now is that you not meddle or interfere. I know you want what’s best for him, and to protect him. Remember, you’ve asked me more than once to take care of him. And I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job of it. All I need from you, all _we_ need from you right now, please, is give us 24, no, 12 hours. And if at that point things are still not what you think, then you can intervene. Please. I’m just asking for a little time. Give me a chance to fix this.”  
  
Mycroft stopped in his tracks and slightly turned to face John.   
‘A jeweller. To make Sherlock happy. Aren’t you being a bit clichéd, here, John? I grant you, it _is_ better than flowers, but my brother doesn’t care for…’ the rest of his sentence died on his lips as he came to realise what John had in mind and was about to do.  
In an instant he wondered if John were sure, if he’d thought properly about this, if it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment, desperation-driven decision, if Sherlock would be happy with John in the long-term.   
He remembered that Sherlock had come _properly _alive when he met John all these years ago, that Sherlock had died for him more times than John even suspected and continued to place him on a pedestal if only he was happy - even if it involved John living elsewhere, with someone else. He knew that Sherlock would continue doing anything in his power to make John happy.  
Of course, Sherlock would be happy. No. _Elated_.  
‘You _have_ taken good care, excellent care of my brother as of late,’ Mycroft conceded. ‘It would be a shame for it to cease now. I could... meddle. With your authorisation, of course. Just so that everything gets done rapidly,’ he offered.

John sighed, his posture relaxing slightly. “Sometimes, times like this, I have to remind myself you are not the enemy. Not that you ever were, but… Always figure if you were really worried about me being a bad influence on Sherlock you would have made me disappear a long time ago,” he tried to joke even though his nerves were frayed to the breaking point. “And I appreciate the meddling. When it’s asked for. You can be useful.” He smiled a bit. “Thank you. I’d appreciate anything you can do in this instance to speed things along.” Taking one of Sherlock’s gloves out of his pocket he glanced up at Mycroft. “Think this will be close enough for them to be able to figure out a ring size?”

‘Yes, I would have,’ Mycroft answered casually. ‘I still would,’ he warned. ‘But to return to the problem at hand here, I believe you have far more precious guides than a pair of gloves on yourself,’ he continued. ‘I assume you have your phone with you? Good,’ he replied when John nodded. ‘No need for a measure that wouldn’t be accurate enough, I believe a picture of the model’s hands should suffice,’ he elaborated. ‘After all, you are dealing with highly trained jewellers.’   
  
“Learn something new every day.” John shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll have a picture that they can use. I’d like to be able to get it tonight and take it back home to him. So that he knows I mean it when I say I’m not leaving. I know that’s a lot to ask on top of them opening up at this hour, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

'To any other person, even having them opening their boutique an hour early is a request of tremendous temerity. However,' he added in a certain and reassuring tone, 'you have two things that no one else has: a favour to ask and the support of the British government,' he whispered, never fully at ease at voicing anything resembling approval, even to soon-to-be family members - that is not if his brother's well-being and happiness were at stake. 

'You are quite right to want this… difficult time to be resolved sooner rather than later,' he agreed. 'Sherlock can be… Well, you know him. In usual circumstances he has a tendency for the dramatic, but in this case, I fear he might overreact more than he already has,' he confessed. 'Time is of the essence. Christmas at my parents' must seem so far away,' he added cryptically. 

**   
** John nodded absently skimming through the pictures of Sherlock he had on his phone trying to find one that had the best view of his hands. “There’s a reason I called him a drama queen. He can be. Part of who he is. Part of why I love him.” He shrugged slightly. Finally deciding on a picture of Sherlock playing the violin for an enraptured Rosie he enlarged it a bit to make sure it wouldn’t get blurry. “I think this one will do. One of the better ones I have and shows off his hands very well.”

'Being a marksman does have its advantages,' Mycroft commented.    
  
John smirked a bit, glancing over at Mycroft. “So, has Greg been taking you to the shooting range to improve your aim? Have to admit, Greg’s a very good shot. A bit out of practice, but still a hell of a shot. You’re probably more out of practice than he is.” Sometimes it was fun to wind Mycroft up a bit. Especially when it was about Greg.    
  
Mycroft’s cheeks coloured ever so slightly  _ Blessed be the night! _ at the memory of Gregory informing him they’d go and train at the shooting range.    
‘You need to remember that I never really partook in shooting activities. It’s hardly my natural milieu’, he commented. 'Now, John, tell me which jeweller owes you such a colossal favour so I can order their business for this particular order to be done with the utmost expediency?' he asked, taking his own phone out of his coat pocket.  **   
  
**

“The DeBeers  in Mayfair . Sherlock and I handled a little something for them and they’ve been extremely grateful. Even when someone decides to call in a favour at a ridiculously early hour, needs something custom done in a matter of hours instead of weeks or even days, and brings a puppy into the shop, it’s a lot to ask. But whatever it takes is whatever it takes. I’m making this right.” **   
  
**

Mycroft started tapping on his phone and putting it to his ear while waiting for the connection to Anthea to be established: he needed to urgently request she find and provide him with all the information she could gather on the DeBeers high-end jewellery shop in Mayfair.   
He would do whatever it took to better the situation his brother was in and ensure he lived in continued happiness with John.   
  
John shook his head. “Mycroft, as much as I appreciate it, and I know you expect Anthea to be on call at all hours, you must let the poor woman sleep at some point. I know where the shop is and I contacted the manager we helped. It should be open and waiting for me when I get there. I have a general idea of what I want to get. Something simple. Something that will hold up with all the chemicals he messes with. Nothing too over the top. I’ll know it when I see it.”

‘I’m sure you do, John. You seem to have everything in control, thought of most eventuality,’ Mycroft replied, twisting his umbrella this way and that. ‘I should leave you to it,’ he added. ‘For my brother’s sake as well as yours,’ he said with a somewhat unctuous smile, ‘let us hope for a happy announcement before the end of the week,’ he finished, his smile turned genuine.   
  
John snorted a laugh shaking his head. “Bloody drama queens, the two of you. Don’t know how I manage to stay sane with all the endless drama and bickering,” he teased. “I promise I’ll take care of him. We’ll get this all sorted out. You and Greg might take Rosie for a bit over the next few days if you can. Just take her to the park or anywhere, really. She’ll enjoy spending time with you,” he assured him before taking his leave. That ring wasn’t going to just magically appear!    
As John was making his way to the shop, he gently gave Sultan’s lead a tug to get him to pay attention to the fact they were moving and not just standing around so he could sniff everything .   
  
  


After John stepped inside the shop he scratched Sultan behind the ears. “You behave now. This is important.”    
Giving a nod to the manager he sighed. “I really appreciate you opening up so late for me. Sherlock will too. I have a vague idea of what I’m looking for, but it’s only vague. Something not too flashy and that will hold up to anything and everything from crime scenes to playtime with our child to science experiments.”

The manager of the shop, Mr Birling, sported bleary eyes and a generally ruffled appearance - John  _ had  _ phoned in the middle of the night causing him to dress in a hurry. It was just as well that he lived but a few streets away.   
Then again, his business had been saved by Sherlock and John several months back - feeling heavily indebted to them, he had declared he owed them a stupendous favour.    
He had not expected it to be collected in the form of wedding bands, and certainly not in the middle of the night with what sounded like the utmost urgency, but far from him to come back on his promise and refuse granting a favour, whatever the circumstances may be.   
‘Please,’ he replied while strengthening his jacket, ‘it is an honour to have you in my shop and to be able to do you this service,’ he assured John after shaking his hand. ‘Now, what you’ve told me on the phone was - well, it is not such a surprise to learn that you and Mister Holmes are a couple, although so soon after your wife passed… Ah, who can control what the heart wants?’ he said with a benevolent smile on his round face.    
‘As I understand you want to propose marriage to him - I can certainly help in providing you with the ring you will need. May I offer you my congratulations?’ he added, his voice carrying a tone of genuine happiness. ‘Now,’ he continued, you told me you have a general idea of what you’re looking for. Can you be more precise, what metal are you after for this band? Or bands, I should say, but let’s focus on your partner’s for now, you might want a slightly different one for yourself,’ he said, chuckling at his digression. ‘As you can see, we offer a range of different metals - gold, rose gold and platinum, but I fear that the most important question at this stage concerns the size of your budget. 

John nodded. “As far as I know, he doesn’t have an allergy to any metals. But given the substances he has his hands in on any given day, then the less reactive the better. So, platinum? Or at least platinum plated? I’d like mine to be similar. Doesn’t have to be exactly the same. Coordinating would be good. Nothing too over the top or flashy. Doesn’t suit either of us.” 

Tapping the counter he thought for a moment choosing his words carefully. Given the circumstances he didn’t want to bring up the fact he’d ‘borrowed’ Mycroft’s card that Sherlock had nicked. Not that he really thought Mycroft would mind given the circumstances, but stil. A bridge to cross when he got there.    
“Budget isn’t too much of an issue. I don’t want to think about that while I’m trying to pick. I don’t want to pick the right ring, but talk myself out of it because of the price. I really do appreciate you doing this for me, for us.” **   
  
**

‘All right, thank you, Mister Watson, that’s very useful and helps me reduce considerably the number of options we had from the beginning,’ he declared as he took the seven platinum rings and placed them closer to John so he could see them more clearly.   
‘This makes perfect sense, and is one of the reasons why I asked you for the type of budget you intended to spend. We don’t want to have to put an end to our clients’ _coup de coeur_. I need to know what width you’re looking for. Out of these which do you think would suit your partner’s personality and looks?’ he asked, showing rings of a width ranging from 2 to 4 mm that were very smart and elegant but also incredibly... sober.

John put Sultan down gently stroking his ears. “Good boy. Stay.” He smiled a bit. “Sultan’s well trained for his age and Rosie’s done a lot of work with him. He’ll probably curl up for a nap given I dragged him out for a walk at a ridiculously early hour.”    
John looked over the rings trying not to think too much. His eye kept being drawn back to a simple platinum band that had a subtle sheen to it. “I think it’s this one. I think it suits him.” The clean lines and understated elegance would suit Sherlock well.

‘Thank you. Yes, I see why you would prefer this one. It is the most sophisticated out of the platinum rings we have, and yet still simple. Now, er, I think you said over the phone that you needed this done… quickly. We obviously have a few rings in the shop but do guarantee a perfect fit we should need five days. Three if I demand our chief jeweller to make this one her top priority - which I will,’ he assured John. 

“I’d like to take the ring home with me tonight. It might not fit, exactly, but we can always come by in the next few days and have it properly sized.”

‘Have you got something that could determine Mister Holmes’ ring size? A photograph, maybe? I remember observing his fingers when you were here last and telling myself that he would be easy to purchase a ring for because he seemed to have regular-sized fingers. It would not surprise me that we have your partner, Mr Holmes’ size in stock,’ he continued voicing his thoughts.   
  
“If you actually had one that was a good fit and might only need a little adjusting, that would be a small miracle. Never used to believe in them. Then I met Sherlock and that’s been changing more and more.” He smiled a bit, glancing down at a now sleeping Sultan as he got his phone out. Pulling up the picture of Sherlock with his violin he slid it across the counter. “I think this one shows his hands well.” **   
** **   
** ‘May I?’ he enquired out of politeness before taking John’s phone and looking at the screen. ‘Yes, this picture is very good, we can clearly see the hands - as well as the whole body. This’ll help me measure an approximative ring size - which you understand will not be accurate. You’ll have to come back to make sure you have a perfect fit,’ he reminded John. ‘Mh, let me go and check what we have in our drawers,’ he said after having studied the picture for a moment, taken measures and written down the information he needed.    
Mr. Birling returned a moment later, holding a small box in his hand with a bright smile on his face.   
‘You are right to believe in miracles, Mr Watson. We have three sizes for this model, and this one would be the most fitting for Mr Holmes,’ he declared.

John blinked several times, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Miracles happen every day, apparently. Even if it’s not a perfect fit right now, it’ll be more than good enough until we can get back and have it properly sized. I apologise in advance if he’s a bit, well, you know how he is. Really, I can’t thank you enough for doing this for us. I’ll be sure to thank you, profusely, on the blog.” 

‘Please, Mister Watson, there’s no need. It’s my pleasure. The ring should fit him very well, but I strongly encourage you to come together, if only to have it checked. And possibly look at one for yourself, too,’ he added. ‘Once the emotions have settled, of course,’ he winked as he placed the box in front of John.

**   
** John smiled gently taking the box and opening it. The ring glowed a soft silver in the light of the shop. It was perfect. The silver tone would compliment Sherlock’s skin without standing out too much and the subtle elegance would suit him well without being too much of a statement. 

Taking a shaking breath he nodded, tucking the small box securely in one of the inner pockets of his jacket. He slid Mycroft’s card across the counter.    
“Don’t worry, I’ve got approval to use it.” Which he did. Sort of. While there was probably just enough in his own account to cover the cost of the ring, there were a few other smaller, much smaller, pending transactions waiting that might have caused his card to be declined which was something he could not let happen at the moment. There wasn’t time to wait and to let things sort themselves out. Using Mycroft’s card and mentally promising he’d repay every bit of it, with interest, meant he could be a hundred percent certain he’d be able to walk out of the shop with the ring. It was taking every ounce of training as a doctor, soldier, and parent to not fidget and tap the counter as he (im)patiently waited for everything to process.    
Picking up on his agitation Sultan whined a bit, ears flapping with a sneeze as he stretched and stood on his hind legs to gently nudge John’s clenched hand. Smiling down at the pup John stroked his head gently. “Yeah, yeah, I know, almost done. We’ll be home before you know it.”

‘There you go, Mister Watson. The payment’s gone through,’ Mr Birling informed him cheerily. ‘Now here’s the invoice. I can only thank you for your purchase and give you all my best encouragement. If I may, it’s only my view as a third party, of course, but Mr Holmes does not seem to be one to engage in anything slightly. You are already in a relationship and I would be very surprised if things did not go as you expect they will. Try not to worry, sir. He’ll say yes,’ said Mr Birling reassuringly, mistaking John’s agitation for nervousness at proposing and at being rejected. As he led him to the door, he reiterated his best wishes and informed him that he was expecting both him and Sherlock in the next few days.   
  
John barely heard Mr. Birling record the transaction in his books. He scooped Sultan into his arms and shook the man’s hand at least half a dozen times before heading out the door.    
Setting Sultan on the pavement he nodded. “Right. Now, home. And quickly.”    
Wiggling excitedly at the word home, Sultan trotted at the end of his lead half dragging John behind him.    
“I know, I know, I want to get there as much as you do, but you  _ have _ to slow down,” he panted. The strain of the last few days along with a lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to him. Much further at this pace and he’d have to take the Night Tube back, which would take longer but at least he wouldn’t pass out. As it was his shoulder throbbed and his leg was beginning to ache deeply as well. The last thing he needed was for it to go out on him and land him in the A&E with a sprained wrist or ankle or something broken. He needed to get home as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to be gone any longer than he had to be and make Sherlock’s worries and ‘worst case scenario’ get any worse than they already were. **   
  
**

‘John,’ came Mycroft Holmes’ educated voice, at a distance from him. ‘You’ve been walking for  _ five minutes _ without noticing you were being trailed,’ he announced. ‘Get in the car. You don’t want Sherlock’s… ideas to worsen, do you?’   
  
After they had gone their separate ways, Mycroft had conferenced with Gregory to inform him of the state of affairs between his brother and John.

They had decided to take the Bentley  limousine that Gregory had convinced Mycroft to acquire several months back because the situation may very well warrant it. Indeed, the circumstances proved that the spacious car was required. **   
**   
For once, John was more than relieved to have Mycroft meddle.    
“One time. This one time I’m giving in. Only because Sultan and I need to get home as quickly as possible. This took longer than I hoped,” he sighed deeply, pausing just long enough to pick Sultan up and slide in the car. The pain in his leg and shoulder were bordering on extreme levels that would require a full pill and several hours of sleep before he remotely felt like himself again.    
“First off, thank you. Second, I borrowed your card that Sherlock nicked. I’ll pay it back. Every penny. With interest. Had to make sure it went through so I could take the ring with me tonight, this morning, whatever time it is.” He sighed shifting uncomfortably with a wince as pain shot down his arm and back causing his hand to spasm.

‘I see,’ Mycroft commented laconically. ‘You will be reminded of it,’ he added. ‘In the meantime...’ he continued, holding out his hand.   
‘I had the car prepared to carry an animal and will have it deep-cleaned,’ Mycroft informed John in a collected voice, probably due to Gregory sitting next to him.

John rolled his eyes, patience and temper hanging on by a thread as he passed the card to Mycroft. He had no doubt that Sherlock would simply steal it back the next time he saw Mycroft.   
“Sultan just did his business after we left the store. He’ll probably fall asleep. Worst that will happen is a few nose prints on the glass and a few hairs. Nothing worse than that.”    
  
Greg reached over to gently move Sultan into his lap to prove to Mycroft that a little dog hair never hurt anything. He passed John a small bottle of water and half a pain pill.    
“Here. Figured you’d need it. I keep some for when my knee goes out when the weather’s dodgy.” 

  
Tossing the pill in his mouth and downing the water John sighed.    
“Cheers. Just...” 

‘We will arrive on Baker Street momentarily, John, do not fret so,’ Mycroft intimed him.   
  
Greg nodded. “You don’t have to explain, John. Mixed messages, crossed wires, talking past each other. It happens. You’re going to make it right. And we’ll be happy to take Rosie during the day,’ he offered. ‘I’ve got loads of time off saved up. I know Anthea can handle things for Mycroft, make changes to his schedule so we’ll have plenty of time to take Rosie and Sultan places. You just focus on Sherlock and yourself for a few days. We’ve got this. Don’t we, Mycroft?” He gave him a pointed look.    
  
“Now, now, let’s not have another domestic with a Holmes. One’s enough for the country, no,  _ the world _ , to handle at one time,” John muttered glancing out the window and tapping his fingers restlessly.

Mycroft frowned, John’s comment irritated him. He was about to tell him so when he felt Gregory’s calf pressing against his.    
‘Yes, quite. Gregory is quite right, of course. Sherlock’s well-being, and should I say happiness, is of paramount concern to me. It is only natural that Gregory and I take care of Rosie to ensure it,’ he concurred while the car slowed down. The voice of the chauffeur came on the speakers Mycroft had had installed for more privacy to inform them that they had reached the destination.    
‘Take care of him,’ Mycroft said as a means of taking his leave.   
  
Greg put Sultan down knowing the pup would follow John. “Let us know when to come pick her up. We can handle this, John.”

  
***   
  


  
John carefully unlocked the door to 221b, and Sultan raced ahead, eager to clamber back into his spot with Rosie. Avoiding the creaky step up, John closed and locked the door behind him. Making sure Sultan was tucked in with Rosie he closed the door to her room, not wanting her to wake up if things got a bit loud.    
  
“Get it together, Watson. It’s not Kandahar,” he muttered, nervously running a hand through his hair and patting his pocket to make sure the ring box was still there. He knocked lightly on the bedroom door and he waited for some sign that Sherlock was awake.    
“Can I come in? Please. We need to sort some things out.” Sighing, he let his hand rest against the wood. “I can keep talking to you through the door but this would be much better in person. Please.”

A deep sigh was the first answer Sherlock deigned give John.    
‘The door is fine,’ he finally replied after a time. ‘I know what you’ll say anyway,’ he continued with a dejected tone to his voice. ‘Of all people you can understand why I do not wish to  _ see _ you now, can’t you?’ he added in a gruff voice, deeper than its usual baritone.

**   
** Hell, why was this so hard? John hadn’t been nervous at all, well, maybe just a bit, when he’d proposed to Mary. Of course, Sherlock had interrupted, but that was beside the point.    
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t communicate well. I remember very well what I said and I meant it. No, I am NOT just saying this,’ he countered before Sherlock could retort anything. ‘This is something I’ve wanted for a while. If you don’t, after my colossal blunder with all this, I’ll understand and I’ll wait for you. If that means forever, so be it.”

On the other side of the door, Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, hugging himself a bit tighter. John sounded genuine but...

  
John tried to let himself in, waggling the door handle - but the key was still in the lock and Sherlock would consider his coming in as an invasion. The door to Sherlock’s room being locked sent the strongest of signals and John’d make things worse by discarding it as unimportant. He dropped his hand and let go of the handle.    
“Please, Sherlock. We  _ have _ to talk to each other. Properly. Not through a door. You know I won’t come in if you don’t want me to, but please. Let me in,’ he asked.    
  
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Sherlock replied, his resolve slowly fading. If John wanted to lie his way out of their relationship…  _ But John would not do that. He would not  _ lie _ , Holmes. _   


_ Oh the irony. Sherlock had never been one to be considerate of others’ personal space, but mess with his... _   
  
John sighed, trying a bit of logic to appeal to Sherlock. “As usual, we’re absolute shite at communicating. We’ll sort that out in a bit. All that matters at the moment is an apology. And, please, can you try to let me get through this without interrupting? You’ve got free rein to deduce me all you want while we suss this all out.” 

‘Thank you for giving me  _ permission _ ,’ he spat from behind the door. ‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘Clearly you have more statements to make.’

John sighed deeply, giving Sherlock time to decide and keeping his tone even and calm. “I’ve got a few more statements. Like I said, I’d much rather make them face to face so you know I’m not lying. I’m just asking for maybe five minutes. Five very important minutes.” He laid his hand against the doorframe. “Please, Sherlock. Open the door.”

After several minutes of complete silence which drove John up the wall, Sherlock heaved a loud sigh. Every sound was ten times sharper to John’s ears and, when he heard Sherlock’s clothes rustle against the bedsheets and the subsequent sound of his footsteps as he crossed the room to turn the key in the lock, John let out a sigh of relief.

Still he didn’t move but waited for Sherlock to give him a sign, which he heard after the sound of retreating footsteps. Clearly, Sherlock had gone back to bed. Still, the door was unlocked, now.

‘You can continue talking through the door but as you begged for me to let you in… you should probably come in and have it done with,’ Sherlock declared.

Taking a few careful steps into the room so Sherlock could hear him and would know where he was, John shook his head. Reaching out he let his hand drop before it could come to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder. 

“Sherlock, I’ve been in love with you since the moment you looked up from that microscope in the lab at Bart’s. Completely gone on you. I’m sorry it took me forever to get to where we are now, but we made it and we’ve got Rosie.” He smiled a bit. “So if you think you can ever forgive me for being a complete arse, I’d very much like to marry you.”    
  
Sherlock blinked. That was unexpected. John’s tone was sincere.   
  


Smiling nervously, John reached in his pocket, his hands shaking as he opened the sleek box lined in cream velvet. Shifting to get down on one knee he held it up to Sherlock. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes will you, please, marry me? Please.”

Sherlock blinked. He turned around so as to properly watch John, who was in fact kneeling in front of him. It was not a figment of his imagination, he could clearly see John’s shadow in the light coming from the corridor. He could hear John’s shaky breathing and see how difficult it was for him to keep his hand standy. Anxious.   
  


‘I… It must be murder on the knees,’ Sherlock answered his voice not quite as steady as he’d want it to be as he held up a hand to John who was still waiting for an answer to his question.   
‘John, I… Would be honoured to accept you,’ he finally replied. ‘Yes,’ he concluded. ‘Now take my hand and stand up, it can’t be easy for your old bones,’ Sherlock added, shifting the conversation to banter. Too much emotion had already been had, there was absolutely no cause to add more.

“Thank the bloody gods, all of them, any of them, another thirty seconds and I would have fallen over.” John got up stiffly, his leg threatening to buckle. “And normally I’d remind you that you’re not  _ that _ much younger than me, but not right now. I took half a pain pill and it was too little too late, I think. I’m going to be feeling this for days.”

  
He gave Sherlock a slightly sheepish, bashful smile. “I hope you like the ring. It just seemed like it would suit you. It’s not too over the top. I knew you wouldn’t want that. And it’s platinum so it shouldn’t react much, if at all, with all the chemicals you handle. If you don’t like it, I won’t be offended and we can go pick out something else. It may have to be resized too. The jeweller was able to get a close match for your size based on some pictures but it might not fit…” He was babbling. Dammit. John Watson NEVER babbled. But, here he was, babbling away like an idiot and still standing there with the box still open holding it in midair. He was definitely out of his depth with this.

‘Oh. You want me to try it. Now, I don’t have any experiments on at the moment, but I could start one with acid to determine how fast it can eat through metal...’ Sherlock started tongue-in-cheek. ‘Alright, then. I’m sure it fits, anyway.’   
  
John huffed a laugh, grinning stupidly.    
“Yeah, yeah, I’d really like for you to try it on. Right now I’m just hoping for a reasonably good fit. And if it’s ok, I’d really like to put it on you…”    
He flashed Sherlock a shy smile taking the ring out of the box and praying he didn’t drop it. Knowing his luck it would slip between the floorboards and they’d never find it. It wouldn’t be the first thing to fall down between floorboards and never be seen again. At least at a slight distance the ring looked like it would suit Sherlock’s long, elegant hands perfectly. John only hoped that when it was actually on it would look as good.

‘Well, then. On you go,’ Sherlock replied, an encouraging smile on his face. ‘I  _ really _ like it, John. It’s - savour this - perfect,’ he continued, giving John his slightly trembling hand. ‘I want you to put it on me,’ he added, tremors in his voice.

John huffed a laugh, shrugging faintly. Hands shaking slightly he slid the ring on Sherlock’s finger, pleased that it fit reasonably well. They might need it altered to some degree, but it was a very good fit.    
“It looks good on you. Suits you very well. I like it on you. The silver looks good on you.” He smiled up at Sherlock, willing himself not to start crying.

As John let his hand linger over his, Sherlock could admire the beauty of the ring that now sat on his finger, proof that John loved him, that he belonged to him and indication that he saw him as the most precious person in his life - as the precious, exquisite band on his finger attested.   
‘Any old metal would have done to show me proof of your love,’ he declared, words catching in his throat. ‘But you chose… perfectly. The ring fits really well, too,’ he added. ‘Just as you fit inside me,’ he concluded in a soft voice.   
  
John blinked several times trying to make his brain come back online when it had very quickly run away with him. 

Blinking, he blew out a long breath, trying to collect himself before looking up at Sherlock and beginning to giggle.    
“We can’t giggle! We’re engaged!” He pulled him into a slow kiss. “Was afraid for a minute there you’d say no. And not that it matters, but there is a diamond on the inside of the band. I’d like to get it engraved too. Whatever you like. I would have done it when I got it but…” He shrugged slightly.

'You're the one who proposed to tie ourselves together,' Sherlock replied. 'How was I not to evoke that, hm?' he continued holding John's hand against his heart and kissing their joined knuckles. 'I had already agreed, John,' Sherlock reminded him. 'I don't want not to be part of your life - and right now, I'm more interested in having another…  _ live _ fitting than discuss engravings,' he informed John. 

It had taken some time for John to get used to Sherlock’s moods that changed directions like leaves on the wind. Apparently, there were still times that Sherlock’s lighting fast mood changes would still catch him by surprise. Taking a moment for his brain that was slowed more than usual by a lack of sleep, a great deal of emotion, and being distracted by the still present pain in his shoulder and leg he squeezed Sherlock’s hand gently. 

“You always have the most brilliant of ideas at the perfect time.” Tangling a hand in the dark curls John kissed him hotly. 

'I think you'll find that it's because I am,' Sherlock replied smugly. 

“Mmmm... You, bed, now,” he let a hint of command come through in his tone. “I think it’s time you showed off some of those riding skills you keep bragging about again.” As locked up as his muscles were feeling, having Sherlock ride him seemed a perfect idea.

'Your wish is my command, Captain,' Sherlock agreed, following John who was leading him to the bedroom. 

'Although last time I checked, you did not think I was  _ bragging _ about my riding skills,' he retorted. 'At least, that's not the impression you gave when you showered me with…' he was interrupted by John's lips crashing against his, and John's body crashing against his, pushing him against the wall right next to the bedroom door.    
  
“It was bragging and you know damn well how bloody gorgeous you looked up there on that horse, watching you grip with your thighs, the way you rolled your hips, the way you moved up and down doing that thing… That horse riding… thing…”

‘Which one?’ Sherlock chuckled in a tease. ‘Something tells me the up-and-down movement of riding found echo in your groin… Oh, it probably was posting,’ he continued. ‘Do you want me to explain it to you, or would you rather…’ he trailed off as he felt John’s hand take hold of his wrists while he nipped hungrily at his neck. **   
** **   
** “Explain later,” John rumbled, pressing Sherlock a bit harder against the wall and pressing his thigh firmly against him. “Don’t need to know the technicalities or how it works. Part of why I like being on the ground. Got a perfect view of you up there doing all… That… Now, if you’re done talking I think we should put that mouth and those hips of yours to a much better use…” **   
** **   
** ‘Oh, you think so,’ Sherlock replied. ‘And what would that be?’ he enquired in a mock demure tone, cocking his eyebrow inquisitively.

John sighed with a chuckle. “Just get out of your clothes and on the bloody bed.”   
It was good to have Sherlock back to being his usual self. “Rosie’ll likely be out for another few hours so we really should make the most of the time.” He kissed Sherlock hotly, backing up just enough to give him space to move.    
  
Tossing his clothes in a pile, he rearranged the pillows to give his shoulder a bit of support. Settling as comfortably as he was going to get, he watched Sherlock. He’d never get tired of watching Sherlock move, especially if he was undressing.

As he slowly divested himself of his clothes, Sherlock reflected on the relief and the happiness - the  _ elation _ \- he had felt when John had proposed to him again - properly. A warm feeling had started coursing through his veins, and his heartbeat had increased.   
The only way he knew would help him cement and process these feelings was through a physical union with John.    
He carefully folded his trousers, jacket and shirt and placed them on a nearby chair, extremely aware that John was observing his every move. He felt his cock grow and throb under the scrutiny he was subject to; and as he turned around he was faced with John half-lying, half-sitting on the bed, his hand casually placed on his own pulsing sex.   
He closed the few paces that separated them and set his legs on either side of John’s before leaning into him and kissing him hungrily.    
**   
** John tangled a hand in Sherlock’s dark curls kissing him deeply and resting one hand on his hip stroking and squeezing lightly before sweeping up to trace over the nearly invisible scars that criss-crossed his back.    
“I’m sorry,” he murmured even though Sherlock would shush him. “I cocked this up, royally. I’m sorry you thought I forgot something so important. And I’m sorry that I thought you wouldn’t want this or were having second thoughts about all of it. Me, Rosie, just… All of it…”    
He kissed him slowly, nibbling his lip and holding him close while slowly rolling his hips. **   
** **   
** Sherlock shook his head and took John’s hands from behind his back.   
‘John, if it’s all the same to you,’ he reprimanded him, ‘I’d rather have you focus on something else,’ he continued before dropping his gaze to their cocks and looking back to John intently. He pressed himself harder against John and moaned.

**   
** “I  _ am _ focussed,” he chuckled softly with a half smile. “Just trying to make sure you know how sorry I am for all this. I know, I know, emotions, tedious, but still.”    
Shrugging he pulled Sherlock into a slow heated kiss rocking against him with a low moan. The idea that he might have lost this, lost everything with Sherlock, again, was almost too much to think about.

Sherlock’s overdramatic mind had almost cost them everything, but now was not the time to ponder on it, which was precisely the reason why Sherlock bit into John’s kiss, his hips tight against John’s as he rocked harder against him.   
‘Exactly,’ he moaned, ‘ _ tedious _ ,’ he concurred. ‘Now let’s move on to something more,’ he continued, taking hold of John’s wrists again, ‘in keeping with the celebration we should be having and of which I’m only hearing faint whispers,’ he taunted in a rough breath.

**   
** John laughed, fondly returning Sherlock’s kiss and nipping the spot on his neck, which made Sherlock go weak.    
“Yeah, yeah, I get the message. Now, let’s see about getting you riding. Haven’t had a chance to watch you at it in a while. Too long.” He smirked, swatting Sherlock’s hip. “Let’s just see if you can convince me of the benefits of riding.” **   
** **   
** Sherlock smirked and rose his eyebrow inquisitively.    
‘Am I allowed some help before I … mount you properly?’ he asked in a pretense of timidity. ‘Unless you’d rather I don’t and I not only ride bareback but also... raw?’ he suggested. ‘I… hear it is most... exquisite for both parties,’ he added, his pupils blown wide at the idea - and at his own boldness for suggesting it.   
John blinked, wheezing slightly as his brain struggled to comprehend what Sherlock had just said. “Yes… God, yes, anything you want. Yes, that, exactly.”    
Nodding he rolled his hips against Sherlock with a low moan. This would require him to at least try and be patient and not give in to what his body was very insistently demanding since he’d registered Sherlock’s request. 

‘I should have known you would be… interested,’ he replied, lust written all over his face, the top of his chest flushed as he held his thigh muscles tighter to elevate himself enough to roughly open his entrance. He closed his eyes as he penetrated himself with his fingers before leaving the honour to John’s sex. Sherlock moaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back as John breached into him ever so slowly to ensure not to hurt him. They both groaned as John went deeper and heaved a sigh of relief at being able to savour the exquisite pleasure of their union after the piercing pain of the first moments.

Sherlock’s thigh muscles were holding firmly against John’s thighs, allowing him to bend to meet his lover’s - his _fiancé_’s - lips_._   
‘Open your eyes,’ Sherlock said as he opened his, ‘and watch,’ he encouraged before starting to move slowly up and down, contracting his pelvic muscles to procure even more friction to both John and himself.

  
“Interested is an understatement,” John panted, barely able to form a coherent thought. Panting he held Sherlock’s hips tightly thumbs stroking over the sharp lines. Meeting Sherlock’s kiss he blinked up at him, eyes a stormy blue. Panting he slid his hands along Sherlock’ thighs watching the muscles quiver. “Fuck… Sherlock…”    
He’d thought their tryst during the wedding reception had been intense, but this completely blew past that into a whole new territory. 

‘Yes. That’s the idea,’ he commented, placing the palm of his hands on either side of John’s slowly flushing chest for purchase as he increased the pace of his movements.    
  
How the hell Sherlock could still manage to be so snarky and ever so slightly condescending at a moment like this was beyond John’s limited ability to think at the moment. Snorting with a fond shake of his head he stroked Sherlock’s hips.    
  
‘I can feel you, every single inch of you stretching me,’ he panted, locking eyes with John’s.

  
“Feels incredible. Completely. Could get used to this.” This was definitely an experiment John wouldn’t mind repeating any number of times.

‘Oh so would I,’ Sherlock agreed in a rough breath, massaging John’s chest and clenching his thigh and pelvic muscles to rise before letting himself fall strongly on John’s shaft. ‘I do appreciate your hard… work,’ he added, taunting John.   
  
John blinked up at him for a moment before snickering. “A pun? You’re making puns  _ now _ ? I love you for it. I know you appreciate my hard work. You’re always very good about letting me know how much you appreciate my hard work. Always.” Tangling a hand in Sherlock’s hair he tugged him down kissing him hotly. “Take your time, yeah. We’ve got all morning. At least until Rosie wakes up.” 

‘I’ve… no idea what you mean,’ Sherlock replied, somewhat disappointed that his taunt had not worked. However, he was not about to let this discourage him from getting what he wanted - since he  _ knew _ that John wanted the same thing even if he was too afraid to voice it. The way his body was tense and the hunger in his eyes when he was looking at him gave Sherlock all the information he needed.   
**   
** “You’re so bloody gorgeous…” John purred snapping his hips and holding Sherlock in place. He was doing his best to at least maintain a bit of control over himself. The last thing he wanted was to let himself forget and hurt Sherlock and make this something neither of them wanted to try again. “Don’t want to rush and end up with you hurting too much in a bad way.”

‘What… sort of… doctor are you?’ Sherlock questioned him somewhat puzzled. ‘Only reason I’d… hurt would be if… you got  _ extremely  _ carried away and  _ tore  _ me apart,’ he reminded him. ‘You do know that…,’ he continued despite being slightly breathless, ‘lubricant is… merely an aid to ease the entrance… the human body produces  _ some _ lubrication. Not a lot, granted, but… you bring yours, as well, you know,’ he added, taking his cock in hand and pulling the skin up and down, producing the viscous tell-tale sign of arousal.

John groaned deeply, snapping his hips again. “Oi, now which one of us  _ actually _ went to med school for six years and then on to two years of foundation years... at Bart’s and three years of internship after that... at bleeding Kandahar? Yes, I know all of that but it’s taking everything I have to  _ not _ get extremely carried away because you have never felt so bloody good and hot and tight,” he growled deeply, eyes focussed on Sherlock’s hand. Licking his lips, John ground against him slowly. “Absolutely gorgeous...” **   
** **   
** Sherlock groaned as John’s slow movements against the walls of his passage brought him much more pleasure than usual - he could feel John’s every inch going inside and outside of him. He pressed down and, a hand still on himself, he gripped John’s hip for purchase and tightened his thigh muscles to take control and set a faster pace.   
‘Just… checking…,’ he replied, dropping his hand to grip John’s other hip.   
  


“A bit hard to forget all the endless hours I spent studying,” he huffed a bit with a smile stroking and massaging Sherlock’s hips. “And you, you are impossible to forget. Knew from the minute I met you, I’d never stop thinking about you. Impossible with those eyes of yours. Not to mention your cheekbones. Your swan neck. And of course those cheekbones. Those dark chocolate curls just begging for my hand to tangle in. And your hands... Christ your hands… Couldn’t stop thinking about you…” he moaned, more than content to let Sherlock more or less choose the pace. The sharp stabbing, throbbing pain in his shoulder and leg were beginning to ease a bit thanks to the pain pill and Sherlock.

‘Well, since I’m so impossible to forget,’ Sherlock retorted, ‘I’m sure you won’t mind me turning around… use your imagination,’ he told John as he held himself up, a soft hiss escaping him. ‘Come, Watson, I need you!’   
  
John laughed softly. “Mm this is a good view too. Get to watch you move even better.” Gripping Sherlock’s hips he pulled him down slowly. “You know I like watching you. Bloody incredible. Nice and slow. Let me watch how well you take me,” he moaned deeply, hands sliding over Sherlock’s back slowly. He knew Sherlock was self-conscious of the scars that marked his back like a map. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful” he murmured breathlessly.

Sherlock shivered slightly under John’s touch but quickly diverted his attention to the sensation of John’s cock in his arse, John’s hands high on his waist guiding him as he undulated slowly, rocking steadily. ‘I can take you more…’ he breathed, increasing the pace.

“Oh I know you can,” he panted, meeting Sherlock’s movements. His thrusts were quickly to become faster and deeper as he gripped Sherlock’s hips harder. “You feel so good,” John moaned deeply, sliding a hand over Sherlock’s long back to tangle in his hair and pull him back against his chest. “Beautiful,” he groaned deeply. 

Sherlock moaned as he turned his head slightly to kiss John as best he could. ‘Sso… delicious, John,’ he complimented, placing his hands on either side on John and resting on them as he continued moving at a slowly intensifying pace. ‘Raw is sometimes better,’ he breathed.   
  
“Right, as usual love. Right as usual.” John chuckled. He loved it when Sherlock was far enough gone for his lisp to begin coming through. Sliding a hand along one of Sherlock’s trembling thighs he wrapped a hand around him stroking in time with each thrust. “You always feel amazing, but this is beyond amazing. Never felt anything so good. Love making you feel good.” His other hand gripping Sherlock’s hip he carefully thrust harder and deeper shifting the angle of his hips slightly.

Sherlock moaned deeply in response to John’s change of angle and groaned after each of his thrust.   
‘You are… Oh, yess, yeah, you are… giving it to me sso well, sso good,’ he agreed, his sense of grammar and proper talking slowly fading as well as his mind.   
  
“Going to make sure you feel good. Forget everything else. Just us right now. Just the feel of us together,” John panted as he stroked Sherlock giving a twist just the way he knew Sherlock liked. “Love watching you like this. Elegant and sexy,” he growled nipping along Sherlock’s neck and shoulders. “You’ve never been so tight for me.” 

‘I’m ssure it won’t… take too long before you’ve… had me loosened up,’ Sherlock breathed, straightening up his posture to give John a better view.   
  
“No time at all, sweetheart, no time at all. In fact, I can feel you relaxing and loosening more by the minute.” Rolling his hips he pressed up into Sherlock adding a slight twist to the slow thrust that he knew drove Sherlock crazy. He knew Sherlock was doing more than a little showing off. Not that he minded. At all. There were few things he enjoyed more than when Sherlock was preening and showing off how well he could move and how good he looked doing it.    
“So gorgeous. Never get enough of watching you. Especially like this. Love when you show off for me,” he purred hands sliding over Sherlock’s warm skin.

‘I know,’ Sherlock replied cockily, almost sitting with his back held straight to John. He looked at John with a lascivious smile as he undulated his hips, holding his arms up behind his neck to emphasize the curve of his back. John had, after all, let him know how much he loved it.

“Absolutely fucking gorgeous…” John smiled gripping Sherlock’s hips tightly and thrusting up sharply. “That’s it, love, just like that. Love the way you move on me. All that hard work dancing and riding is definitely paying off. Mm maybe you should add yoga to it. Make you even more flexible. I think there’s something to be said for ‘downward dog’...” He smirked quickly flipping Sherlock so that he was under him on all fours. 

Sherlock groaned when he found himself at John’s mercy.  _ Finally _ , he thought, moaning as he felt John tangle his fingers through his hair to keep his back arched and allow John more access so he could give more depth to his thrusts.    
  
John groaned deeply. As much as he’d enjoyed watching Sherlock ride him, this was perfect. “That’s it, love, that’s perfect,” he panted snapping his hips sharply and grinding against Sherlock slowly. “Can’t believe I’m this lucky.” Nipping along Sherlock’s neck he panted harshly. At this rate he wasn’t going to last much longer but as long as he was certain Sherlock was happy, that’s all that really mattered. He had a feeling this ‘celebration’ was going to last for several days.

‘J-John…’ Sherlock moaned, ‘sso good… l… Me. Am lucky,’ he breathed. ‘Y’ can have me… ‘s much as you want,’ he husked, all worry gone from his mind, obliterated by the raw pleasure that John was giving him while showering him with his love.

Rumbling a laugh, John pressed kisses along Sherlock’s neck and shoulders. “Mm I’ve got a feeling there’s going to be a lot of having for both of us for the foreseeable future,” he remarked in a smirk. “Love making you feel good.”    
If Sherlock’s brain was already offline enough for him to be lisping and for all pretense of proper grammar to be utterly gone he’d completely given in. Thrusting deeply his pace increased. “You feel so good. Not much longer. Feel too good.” John snapped his hips sharply.

Sherlock’s sweaty curls and back were another proof of their encounter’s intensity, as were the shivers running down his spine at the lightest touch of John, or his heavy breathing as John pounded into him. Sherlock tried to keep on moving to meet every one of John’s thrusts, but he was soon rendered a dishevelled, uncoordinated mess. He sighed as he relinquished any thought of control, and unconditionally surrendered his body to John’s capable hands and care.   
**   
** “That’s it, perfect. Just let yourself go. I’ve got you. Always got you,” John promised, holding Sherlock up with his good arm while the other stroked through his curls. “Absolutely perfect,” he praised, knowing Sherlock was a complete sucker for John praising him.  **   
  
**

Sherlock heaved a sigh at John’s approval, shivering against him. ‘M-mark me. Y’re all I love, John. ’M yours. ‘M all yours,’ he said, his lips trembling as emotion ran through him, the terror he’d felt at having his heart torn apart, of being abandoned by the only person who counted in his life.

  
“I know, I know, it’s ok. I’ve got you.” John completely understood Sherlock’s feelings and fears as well as the need for John to mark him as taken, claimed, not only by the ring on his finger but a difficult to hide physical mark. He shifted the angle of his hips slightly, jerking roughly as his hands slid over Sherlock’s warm, slick skin. “Close, aren’t you? I can feel it. Let go for me. I’ve got you.” It was taking everything he had to hold off until Sherlock came.

‘Y’ do. Al-wayss,’ he agreed breathlessly, his abdominal muscles contracting as he pressed their bodies together. ‘Not… clos’ ‘nough… Need…’ he gasped, his eyes closed as he let his head fall back, relishing in the feel of John’s right arm against his torso, holding him close as he buried himself deep inside Sherlock. Nuzzling along Sherlock’s neck he sucked and nipped a bright mark that would peek above his collar before biting firmly on the juncture of his neck and shoulder thrusting roughly.    
  
‘J-John…’ he said in a broken breath, ‘I… love you…’ he continued before coming spectacularly hard, untouched, his hands hanging on either side of him.    
  
Still holding him tightly, John’s hips snapped roughly against Sherlock’s locking them together as he spilled inside Sherlock for what seemed forever. “Love. Yes. You too…” **   
  
**

They stayed entwined together: Sherlock safe in John’s warm, loving embrace; John safe in the knowledge that Sherlock was his and wanted to do everything with him, from loving him to living with him and raising Rosie together. They found relief and solace in the promise, the commitment of long-lasting love they’d made earlier which tied them to the world, making their shared sentiment a more tangible reality. 

  
  


***

**   
** John gripped Sherlock’s hand as they walked, laughing and joking on the way to the jeweller. Holding the door open for Sherlock, he smiled up at him eager to get Sherlock’s ring sized and pick out his own as well as get them engraved.

For his part, Sherlock could still hardly believe that John  _ had _ asked for  _ his _ hand in marriage, both inebriated and sober. Nonetheless, he shared the exultation John was in, if slightly … bewildered by the mind-blowing nature of the situation. He felt lighter than he had in  _ years _ , and ready for John to find his ring and have them engraved.

John chose a ring that very nearly matched Sherlock’s but wasn’t quite as large and of a slightly warmer shade.    
Although it wasn't as good a fit as Sherlock’s had been, John reasoned that one couldn’t expect two miracles to happen in such a short span of time and was more than content to wait a few days for their rings, complete with engraving, to be done.

**   
** Mere days after John had proposed and their rings were ready, Sherlock and John had set a date - with Mycroft’s intervention to fast-track the process without either of them demanding for anything or Greg needing to get involved.    
Indeed, just like Gregory, Mycroft had been thrilled to learn the wonderful news - if seven years later than he had initially predicted - and was eager to aid the affianced couple in any way he could. He had started to understand that Sherlock had matured and become a good man and, as Gregory had been telling him for some time now, it was high time that he change for the better vis-à-vis his brother.

Sherlock never having been one to spontaneously partake in family gatherings, regardless of their importance, Mrs Holmes had appealed to John to ensure her and Siger were invited once they had been informed of their youngest’s engagement.

She naturally had made arrangements for their stay to be extended so that Sherlock could have a proper honeymoon - his opinion on the necessity of having one notwithstanding - and to make certain that Mycroft spend time with his charming companion without having to endure the constant distraction of a demanding two-year-old.  
John’s immediate family had been informed and invited as well, naturally, as well as the few friends he and Sherlock had, resulting in a very small group attending their wedding ceremony on the 14th February which Mycroft had officiated.  
As Sherlock’s witness and trusted confidant, Molly had advised him to add something to his vows to remind John of his love: Sherlock decided on refreshing his memory with a few words, resulting in tears of joy brightening everyone’s eyes, not least of all John’s. 

_ I choose you. I will choose you over and over again, without pause, without a doubt. In a heartbeat. I will always choose you. _

Greg, on his part, had frequently reminded John to  tell Sherlock the things he'd always wanted, and so he repeated the words he had uttered at the cemetary on Sherlock’s pretend grave for Sherlock and their guests to hear.   
‘You told me once that you weren’t a hero. That was a lie. You will always be a hero to me. There were times I didn’t even think you were human because, well, you’re you, and you’re incredible. But let me tell you this: you are the best human… human being I’ve ever known, and no one will ever convince me of anything different. I was so alone. But I’m not anymore, and Rosie’s got you now too and I, we, owe you so much.’ 

**   
** Such declarations had brought more than a few sniffles from their guests, Mrs Hudson and Molly for example had continuously been dabbing their eyes with a handkerchief.    
To Rosie, however, this attitude was unacceptable, and so she kept reminding everyone that there ought to be ‘no cryins at weddins because Daddy and Papa happy, not sad’ and had frequently tossed handfuls of confetti in the air whenever she had felt the atmosphere needed to be more festive. 

After they had accepted congratulations and well wishes from everyone and reminded Rosie they would see her on the following day, and a little for the next several days, while she enjoyed a visit at a hotel with her grandparents and spent some time with her uncles, the newlyweds had returned to their flat and had finally found themselves blessedly alone. **   
** John had tiredly collapsed on the sofa, squeezed Sherlock’s hand and kissed his cheek before looking down at their rings shining softly in the late afternoon light.    
He couldn’t help but be pleased with the simple inscription they had chosen: the date they had met and on which they had married followed by the infinity symbol. **   
** **   
** ** _   
  
_ **

  
  
  
  


**   
  
**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Here's the timeline to the events happening here
> 
> 26th December, late morning/early afternoon – sex, bath and Rosie’s parentage (1)  
26th December, afternoon – shopping (2)  
26th December, evening – dinner at Angelo’s with Mrs H (3)  
27th December, morning – at Harry and Clara’s (4)  
27th Dec late morning/lunch – back at Baker Street; lunch with Molly; John has a PTSD episode (5)  
27th Dec, early afternoon – early evening Comfort, sex, surprise (6)  
27th Dec, evening – Dinner with Harry, Clara, Kate and Irene. Talk of family reunion (and wedding? The idea of it anyway). (7)
> 
> 28th December – the Watsons on the market looking for the something blue and new for Harry and Clara’s wedding. Gift of a pushchair. Truce between Irene and… everyone else. John and Sherlock have sex and let go. (8)
> 
> 2nd January 2017, afternoon – Sherlock, John, Rosie and Sultan take a train to Scotland to attend Harry and Clara’s wedding. They meet Aunt Adelaide. Mycroft, sent as representative to the Queen, is horrified to learn that there are things he doesn’t know. (9)
> 
> 3rd January, morning – Sherlock, John, Rosie and Sultan go for a walk to manage their nerves, they meet Irene and Clara as they come back. John is wearing a kilt.   
3rd January, noon/afternoon/evening – Wedding ceremony, then wedding reception/party followed by a drunken proposal (10)
> 
> 4th January: after John proposing and NOT MENTIONING it, Sherlock is very distressed while John starts the day elated (he has, in fact, not forgotten). They go to Edinburgh so that Harry and Clara can sign the binding contract of their wedding, a very dull affair. John wants to show Sherlock the views and try to get him in a better state of mind but his mood becomes fouler and fouler as the day progresses, John doesn’t understand why and his own becomes frayed and sensitive. (11)
> 
> January 5th they leave Scotland in early afternoon and arrive back home (roughly 7 hours train ride: depature 2:41pm arrival 9:39pm). (12, part I)  
January 5th evening/January 6th middle of the night: Because Sherlock has been gloomy since the day before John has a lightbulb moment and proposes properly on 6th. In the middle of the night, but properly.  
They set a date and get married on 29th January 2017. (12, part II)
> 
> Here's a picture of the ring John's chosen for Sherlock https://www.debeers.com/wide-court-band-5mm-j1bf04xxxp


End file.
